


It Always Was

by casography



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural
Genre: (what a shocker), Amy & The Doctor & Castiel-centric, Amy's lying about something..., Amy-centric, Bisexual Amy Pond, F/M, Flashbacks, Past Character Death, Post-Episode: s07e05 The Angels Take Manhattan, Post-Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Rare Pairings, Resurrection, Superwho, Warnings May Change, as will these tags, but most definitely, drunken tomfoolery, someone had to fix this mess amirite, the Afterword is a lie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18913933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casography/pseuds/casography
Summary: The Doctor agrees to help an old friend-but for a steep price. Amy Pond digs herself out of her own grave, but not in New York. Castiel has no recollection of the strange woman he's resurrected, but she seems to know him just fine...and then some. Sam and the rest contend with a seemingly endless search as they welcome two newly reunited souls into the fold, but a wolf in sheep's clothing walks among them. It doesn't take them long to realize they're all in over their heads. What starts as a harrowing series of missions to save Dean turns into a race to stop Michael from restarting the Apocalypse in their own world. But is he already three steps ahead?Careful who you trust here.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Just...phew. Truly, this story has been almost six years in the making. I've worked it out three different times with three different plots, half-developed it, then discarded it. But not the third time. This time, it demanded to be written and I listened.
> 
> "Faith By Morning" is an optional prequel to this story, but I'll be explaining things from it here anyway if you don't feel like reading it. (My writing has improved a bit since that one.)  
> There's sadly no update schedule as of right now, but there hopefully will be soon! Until then, I'll try not to make you all wait too long. Keep in mind that by the time this story is finished, it will be immense. I'm talking, most likely over 100k words. So rest assured that any time between updates is at least 98% spent with my pea brain trying to sift through a vast amount of content.
> 
> Please don't forget to leave kudos if you like it, and PLEASE comment even if you didn't like it. I love comments. I love attention. Validate me, pls.  
> If you're interested in being a beta-reader, message me at casography.tumblr.com. I misspell the stupidest stuff and don't always catch it. I have one beta-reader already (the fabulous vriskasnerket, the Dean to my Sam) so I could use maybe one more.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> P.S.: Music is very important to me, especially when I write. [This playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1230059721/playlist/4IOEqWKsKURAgpsEnKpjkV?si=7KXI5Tm0TjOA3Yqp9oDzAg) is full of songs that helped me in the process of writing this fic and even inspired some of the scenes. Of course, it's optional listening, and it'll update as the story does.

_Baby, here we are tonight._

_The dark will turn into the sunlight._

_Don't you know it always does?_

_It always was,_

_And it will be,_

_Alright._

\- The Pierces, "Monsters"

 

* * *

 

It was a quiet day on the TARDIS, just like every other day had been for the past few hundred years. The time machine's engines hummed softly in the background as the interior lights cast flickering shadows on the walls. The TARDIS herself longed for adventure every day, a longing that was ever present in the air around the Doctor. He sat in an old armchair, barely reading or comprehending the tome he held on his lap. It wasn't as if he hadn't read it over two hundred times already. The Time Lord felt every single day of his solitude in his bones, in his soul—if he still had one. He never forgot how many days he'd hidden on his cloud, far above the world he once protected. This particular day was number ninety-thousand, nine-hundred and eighty-two.

Even though he'd chosen this life after losing Amy and Rory, it wore on his mind. He could tell he wasn't nearly as sharp as before, forgetting simple maintenance procedures here and there or how many star formations existed in Axylon 8, a list he'd memorized and remembered since he was a boy on Gallifrey. He knew why though, and it wasn't old age. It was good old-fashioned, gut-wrenching grief. It had washed over him for centuries now, eroding everything that made him who he was. It was eating him alive, and he welcomed it with open arms. To cease to exist someday would be a mercy compared to every day he spent in a reality where she was no longer alive.

The TARDIS suddenly made a rather loud whirring sound, startling the Doctor out of his thoughts. "What is it, old girl?" he asked out of ancient habit before finally shaking his head and waving a dismissive hand. "Whatever it is, it's none of our concern. Not anymore." He sighed, absently flipping to another page without having fully read the previous one. “Vastra, if that’s you, I’m not in the mood for company today.”

There was silence, his fingers roved unseeing over the words on the page before him, then he saw the figure out of the corner of his eye before he heard him. Instead of being surprised again, the Doctor sighed sorrowfully. "Oh no," he groaned, seemingly all the dread of the universe piled into those two words.

"I wouldn't have come unless it was an emergency," Castiel began, standing at the bottom of the steps that led down to the console. It had been years, centuries for the Doctor, since the two had even been in the same room. Chalk it up to conflicting schedules—a false excuse the Doctor liked to offhandedly use when he just wanted someone to go away. This was one of those times; Cas never brought good news.

"Even emergencies are none of my concern anymore, my friend," the Doctor stated with a sense of finality. Of course, Cas wasn't finished.

"Doctor, I have no other choice. The worst has happened—is happening-"

"There's always a choice, Castiel. There are always other people, other beings who can help. I'm surely not the only one," the Time Lord said with a scoff. He knew he wasn't Castiel's only choice. Angels had always been very influential cosmic beings, not just in religious settings.

"No, but you are the most...effective," Cas confessed.

The Doctor's nose slightly curled at that. "Oh, that's a beautiful adjective for an epitaph," he quipped, placing his book in the chair and standing to stretch. "'Here lies Dave. He was...effective.'"

Cas groaned with impatience. "You're purposefully avoiding my point, I—”

"You think?" The Doctor half-spat at his friend. "There's a reason I'm all the way up here, and it's not to make it easier for you to find me, flyboy." He slouched over to one of the control panels on the console, not actually doing anything with the buttons and levers except trying to look busy. Cas knew that trick though. "How's that war of yours going, by the way?"

Cas huffed. "It ended years ago. You know that."

"I do? We barely keep in touch, how would I?" He knew; he'd heard the day it ended. There'd been so much loss that nobody really won, according to reports. He'd heard extensively of Castiel's role in it all as well. The greater portion of an ancient heavenly host, demolished. As if he hadn’t done the same to his own people. He just truly did not want Cas to reach his point. “Oh, how we’ve all fallen, eh? One cloistered away on a cloud, one all but banned from his home, the other in the bloody ground—”

"Doctor," the angel began with new-found patience, a note of desperation apparent in his tone. He couldn't help but start to feel panicked; the truth was that he couldn't think of anyone else who could possibly help the kind of situation in which he and the Winchester's presently found themselves. "Please. We need you. You're one of the best minds in the universe, and we need all the help we can get."

The Doctor let the silence after Cas's plea linger, only broken by a long sigh from the former. Cas began to hope that maybe he'd changed his mind, until his old friend spoke again, softly. "What part of 'I'm done' escapes your understanding?"

Cas sighed and shook his head in disappointment, but the Doctor turned toward him and continued urgently. "You don't understand, you _do not_. I keep _losing_...things, people. And you said yourself once that you lot don't process emotion the same as flesh and blood beings, so you can't fathom the...the sheer _brutality_ of loss. Of that much loss, that magnitude, over and over, until there's nothing else." His volume built until he was yelling. "And you don't want anything else or anyone because you're just going to lose _again_. And the pain never recedes, it just builds and builds until you run to keep from gaining any more of it. I can't anymore, Castiel, I can't—" The Time Lord took his—her—glasses and cleaned them on his sleeve, his voice quieter and slightly shaking. "I just can't take it."

Castiel couldn't recall the Doctor needing glasses, let alone ever wearing any before. He put the thought aside, walking slowly towards the man as a flare of anger appeared in his eyes. "You don't think I know? I lost brothers and sisters in that 'war of mine' as you called it, too many to count. I obliterated many of them myself, and you think I don't _understand_? It doesn't take emotion to process something like that." Cas paused, thinking of his next words carefully. "But I was human for a time. A short time, but I remember every single second." He let that sink in, the Doctor's eyebrows raising in surprise. "I felt everything, and I remember when the pain of all that I'd done hit me." Cas sighed. "There are no words to describe it." Silence. "Now...we might lose Dean. It would be my fault to an extent because I didn't stop him from making the exact same mistake I did during the war. Doctor...I beg of you..."

The Doctor silently looked down at the floor before turning back to the console. Cas was suddenly appalled, rage slowly building in his chest. "What happened to you?" he asked with mild disgust, a rhetorical question. "You've always ran...but you never hid like a coward." He turned to leave, the Doctor hanging his head and clutching the glasses in his hands. Too tightly.

He cracked them.

And the sound woke him up. It cleared his head like the snap of fingers or a bucket of ice water turned over his head. Like a slap across the cheek from an angry young Scottish woman.

"For the record," he heard Cas begin, "no matter how much you deny it, humanity has always been and always will be your concern. Just like it is mine."

"Castiel, wait," the Doctor said, spinning back around and rushing to the angel before he could depart.

"What?" Cas grumbled. He was done wasting his time.

"I can help you," the Time Lord said, Cas's face relaxing with relief, "but I'm going to need my team. More specifically, one...dearly departed friend."

Cas stared blankly shaking his head. "I don't understand."

"Ohh, yes you do," the Doctor encouraged him.

Castiel hesitated, his brow furrowed. "You need me to resurrect someone? I thought at one time you had several companions."

"I did," the Doctor verified.

A pause. "But you only need one back?"

"That's right. A very important one." "Important" somehow felt like a gross understatement.

Castiel sighed, resigned. If this was what it took to get the Doctor on board, it was worth whatever unwanted attention it attracted or however drained Cas would be later. "This is unorthodox but...okay. Which one?"

The Doctor smirked. "Oh, I think you know."


	2. "What's Dead Should Stay Dead" Doesn't Apply to Scots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to post every Tuesday, but I can't truly promise it. Fingers crossed though!
> 
> No songs for this chapter, but "still feel." by half alive jokingly reminds me of it because Resurrection. Really the song's about disassociation but either way, it's a BOP. ([Playlist.](https://open.spotify.com/user/1230059721/playlist/4IOEqWKsKURAgpsEnKpjkV?si=iDuCeIpbRLyMSY6lQODGPQ))
> 
> I'd still love to have one more beta reader. If you're interested, contact me here or at casography.tumblr.com. This chapter may or may not have been beta read simply because its author neglected to send out the Docs link until last night. (It's me. I'm author.) Hope you all enjoy it anyway!

The first thing Amy Pond felt after almost thirty years of being dead was pain; an exhilarating, excruciating, scraping ache in her newly functioning lungs as she took her first breath. It wasn't as dramatic as one would imagine since she fell into a five-minute coughing fit right after. Once that subsided, she realized it was pitch black wherever she was. She moved her arms, painfully stiff muscles and joints reaching out to find that her world ended only six inches in front of her face. And where had she been before this moment? She felt like the memory was there, dancing on the edges of her mind but just out of consciousness' reach.

"Help!" she tried, but it was barely a squeak that caused her to cough more. Her voice would be useless until she could get some water, she decided. She pressed at the top of the coffin with her hands as hard as she could, but it barely budged. What little it did move let in dirt, which she spat out of her mouth. _My God, I'm back again just to suffocate?_ she thought. _Wonderful._  She decided to stop trying to escape for the moment and just take a minute to think.

She remembered dying, and she could somehow feel it had been a long time since that moment. An aneurysm; after everything she'd been through, that's what got her in the end. It felt like simply floating away to...where? She had no idea. But she had been somewhere; so much for her nihilistic views on the afterlife. Yet she could remember her past life just fine.

Amy ground her teeth together lightly as she thought, ignoring the grit of dirt between them. It occurred to her that the Doctor possibly had something to do with this— _What the bloody hell have you done this time, you mad man?_ —and then she realized that Rory might be alive again as well. She'd let herself think about that later, as resolve to dig her way out returned. If she'd been gone as long as she felt she had been, then the whole world—the whole universe—would probably be different now. She suddenly couldn't wait to see it.

After what felt like an hour of tricky maneuvering, swallowing about a pound of soil, and help from what had to be divine intervention, Amy was out of the coffin. She started digging upward until she touched what felt like long, thin tendrils between her fingers and realized they were roots. _Grass roots_. She was close to the surface. She finally pulled herself up through the soil and took her first breath of clean fresh air, gasping and spitting out as much dirt as possible. Once she was out of the ground she laid there on the soft grass, trying to catch her breath. It was daytime, not yet noon. She felt a slight zest of sea spray against her face, the wind blowing gently through her burial clothes. Scratch that—the holes in her burial clothes. Her favorite outfit at the time of her death—a modest dark blue two-piece number with three-quarter sleeves and a pencil style skirt—looked like swiss cheese after decades of exposure to insects. _Last time I wear my best to my funeral._

She sat up and looked over at her gravestone for the first time: a simple, black granite square a foot and a half tall, sunflowers engraved into the top corners. Just like she wanted. There were copious amounts of white impatiens and pink begonias—annuals, she recalled, which meant someone was still tending her grave—planted on either side of the stone. It was inscribed:

Amelia Jessica Pond  
Mar. 27, 1902 - Dec. 1, 1989  
Author  
Beloved Mother  
Companion

Anthony had seen to everything perfectly, and she wondered if River had been able to contribute. She thought about where they were now, whether or not they were still alive. What year was it even? She stood shakily and took a few steps until she could see out over the water, holding her clothes together by folding her arms. The wind whipped through her hair, and it felt like it might be spring. She continued to wonder where her children were now, and Rory...oh, Rory. The thought was bittersweet, seeing as they'd had their nasty divorce after all not long after adopting Anthony. Still, she'd be glad if he were alive again; he'd been her rock after they'd been permanently swept so far away from home and everything they'd ever known. He'd been a good father to their son—and to River, of course, when she came around. She was sure she'd know the answer soon; there had to be a reason this was happening. That was the real question of the moment, the one she should focus on.

Amy walked down from the cliff towards town, each step she took more steady than the last. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, paused, then delightedly ran her hands over the smooth skin of her face. It felt like the skin she had in her late twenties, and she guessed that's how old she looked now. Yet she realized she could revel in her newly bestowed youth later. She'd have to find clothes first; her garments in their present state would draw too much attention. But where could she find them? She wasn't above theft—although being given a second chance at life, she was loath to damn herself so quickly. Once she reached even ground, Amy realized she should be able to see her cottage from where she stood, yet it was nowhere in sight. "Loved that house," she murmured to herself, her voice somehow much stronger than before. She allowed a moment of melancholy before pressing on.

She knew exactly when she reached town; not much had changed since she'd left. The irony that she'd chosen to live out her last years in a small New England town, when she'd hated the small English village in which she'd grown up, had never been lost on her. Still, she'd loved Eastport ever since her first visit. Amy initially went on a whim in the '50s, wanting to escape the madness of New York City in order to punch through her writer's block in peace. She wound up on a ferry to Moose Island and the rest was history. When the city finally held too many painful memories for her to bear, Amy packed up her things and moved into the small cottage at the foot of the hill, quickly making the cold little hovel into a home. Her dear children visited as often as possible, Anthony even moving to Eastport a few years after Rory passed. After they lost their father, River never missed Amy's birthday.

Somewhat taken aback, Amy realized she was crying. She wiped the tears away, vowing to save them until she knew for sure that her family was truly gone. Still, she felt it in her soul, their absence from the world. Her own mother’s voice came to her then. _A mother is rarely wrong about her children._

She tried to stay to the shadows of the buildings lining Water Street, which wasn't difficult since the lack of sunshine provided plenty of cover. Maybe anyone who saw her would write her off as a vagrant. It was then that her stomach growled for the first time: loud, angry, and surprisingly painful. She'd have to get food and soon, but how? _I could say I was in a car accident..._ That would have to do, as she presently felt she would throw up from hunger.

As she walked, she started exercising her vocal cords a little with some tongue twisters. "Mummy made me mash my M&M's." She said it a few times, remembering with some grief that it was Anthony's favorite when he was a boy. She was halfway down the alley, about to walk out into the sun, when she heard a rustling behind her. Amy turned slowly, her neck stiff, but she saw nothing. She continued on silently, but only for a moment before she felt the air shift right behind her. She froze, hoping this split-second decision wouldn't get her killed again. She whirled around, her left fist colliding with...nothing. Amy stood there perplexed. Being resurrected must've made her paranoid, she decided. She sighed uneasily, turning around to continue—and almost ran right into him.

She would've screamed in surprise, and honestly fear, if he hadn't been so quick to grab her and cover her mouth. It only took her a moment to realize who it was; the trenchcoat gave it away. She jerked her head back to remove his hand, staring at him in shock. "Castiel?"

Cas shushed her, taking hold of her arm and leading her back down the alley away from the street. "We can't be seen. More specifically, _you_ can't be seen."

Frank as ever, he was. "Thanks, I know I look horrid. But I'm hungry and—"

"What I mean is we can't risk you being recognized,” he clarified.

"Recognized?" Her brow knit with confusion. "I haven't looked in a mirror yet, but I'm pretty sure I don't look eighty-seven anymore."

"Neither does your statue," he explained, making the mistake of letting go of her arm.

She blinked at him. "My _what_?" It only took her a second or two to realize that any statue of Amelia Williams, the author, wouldn't be too far away. "The library!" she yelled as she took off running.

"No—damn it," Cas grumbled as he ran after her. She found the alley across the street from the library and ran until she was inches from the sidewalk. There, standing stark against the green grass, was a granite statue of Amy that had to be ten feet tall including the base. She smiled towards the building across the street as flesh-and-blood Amy smiled at the stone depiction of herself.

"Wow," Amy exclaimed. "I guess they finally do that sort of thing when you leave half of your money to them in your will."

"Amy, we have to go," Cas urged sternly, worried.

"But I just got back," she protested, reading the plaque attached to the base of the statue. “Hey, I was on the _New York Times_ ’ Best-Seller List _three_ times, thank you very much.”

"Amy, please," Cas insisted, his tone changing to one of desperation. It made Amy turn around, concern appearing on her features.

"What is it?" she asked. "It must be important for you to bring me back to life—and yeah, I'm guessing you did it since you're here now. Nifty trick, remind me to kiss you for it later. But what are you even doing here? No one was supposed to be able to find me, dead or otherwise."

Cas simply pointed to himself. "Angel."

"Okay, yeah," she said with a shrug. She was about to continue when he held up a hand to stop her.

"My turn. What are _you_ doing here? You were supposed to be in a cemetery in New York."

She gasped softly; he'd just answered her next question. "It _is_ the Doctor, isn't it?"

"Partly," he began, making her look more confused than ever. "I've asked him for help in an ongoing emergency, and he said he would assist...as long as he had you back."

Amy's expression lightened for a moment, somewhat moved that he would pick her out of all the companions he ever had. Then she realized what that possibly meant and felt disappointed. "I told him to find someone," she bemoaned, shaking her head. "How long has he been alone?"

"I don't know, but it seems to have been a while," Cas answered. "But Amy—"

"Why doesn't he _listen_ to me? What am I thinking, he never has."

"Amy—"

"And how am I supposed to explain to him about Rory and me? He's gonna hate me for lying to him."

" _Amy._ "

"What? I know we have to go," she said in exasperation, "I just need a minute. I mean, you're here, I'm going to see the Doctor again for the first time in _decades_ , I have a _statue_ , it's...a lot to process."

As he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, Cas didn't understand why it mattered that he was there. The Doctor said Cas would remember Amy as soon as he saw her, but he still didn't. Who was she to him? Whatever the answer, it could wait. Both of his families were hanging on by threads, actually. "I know it's a lot, but try processing on the road. Lives are at stake here, and I'm not exaggerating. A call could come in at any moment, and we need to be there when it does."

"Okay okay, right, sorry," Amy apologized, shaking her head as if to clear it, which she was trying to do. Everything was already happening fast just like it used to. They'd only made it a few steps before Amy's stomach let out another extraordinarily loud and even more painful growl. Cas heard it as well, turning around with a look of concern. "Now, _that_ I can't control."

"You'll be able to eat when we get to the TARDIS," Cas promised.

"Ooh, the TARDIS! I've missed that old girl," she said wistfully.

"The feeling was not mutual."

"What?" Amy asked softly, hurt.

"Sorry...that was a joke," Cas said awkwardly, a crooked grin on his lips as he placed two fingers against Amy's forehead.

"Oh," Amy said, relieved. A pause. "You do jokes now?"

Cas shrugged. "Not very well." They disappeared from the alley, litter disturbed by a breeze from angel's wings.

 

* * *

 

"Okay....okay....sorry, but...for the _third time_ , _no_ olives, extra _cheese_. Okay? Cool?......No, no, it's fine, you don't have to tell me to calm down. I'm calm, I'm very calm. —No, no, no, no, getting your manager's not necessary, everything's okay as long as there are no olives."

"Want me to take a crack at them, Sam?" The Doctor asked of one of his newest acquaintances. Sam held up a pointer finger in response, a gesture that seemed somewhat strange on a six-foot-four man. The Doctor sighed, looking across the table at Jack, New Acquaintance #2. The young man watched Sam closely, squinting every now and then as if taking mental notes. With the squinting, the Time Lord couldn't help but see some resemblance between him and Castiel. It was slightly jarring. He focused back on the younger Winchester, who was now gently rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, I need twenty of them," Sam repeated with the patience of all the saints the Catholic Church had bestowed. "Yes. I have money." Twenty almost seemed like it wouldn't be enough compared to how many were in the Men of Letters bunker at the moment. The second sentence out of Sam's mouth in introduction to the Doctor had been, "It's usually not nearly this crowded in here." And there were people _everywhere_. There were people talking in clusters, comparing notes all over the expanse of the library. There were people in the kitchen fixing drinks, cutting up and exchanging stories. There was the kind man who'd offered the Doctor some tea after introducing himself as Bobby; he was currently across the room debating battle tactics with a fellow hunter/soldier. What the Doctor found intriguing was that, just like him, very few of them were from this world.

"—Great, thank you so much, bye." Sam, relieved, finally put the phone down on the table and rubbed his hands over his face while semi-loudly groaning, "Oh, my God," over and over again. Then he dropped his hands with a sigh, revealing tired eyes and an expression that said he was clearly done with people for the day. "The pizzas should be here in an hour," he announced to the table.

"Thank you," the Doctor said, even though it had little to do with him; he hadn't eaten in centuries. It simply seemed that Sam needed some gratitude. Sam gave a nod to the alien then walked away, pushing his hair back with his hand in exasperation. He still couldn't believe it. When Cas had said he was calling on an old friend to help in the fight to get Dean back, Sam figured he meant another angel or benign supernatural entity. Although, the latter was what they wound up with, but an _alien_? Sam couldn't help but think how Dean would get a kick out of that.

He felt so on edge and uncomfortable, and the fact that the bunker was at max capacity didn't help. But he couldn't ask these people to leave; this was their fight, too. A little peace and quiet would be a godsend at this point though, yet Sam's mind was too distracted and wired to achieve it even when he was alone. The fourth cup of coffee he was pouring was definitely counterproductive to that goal as well. Forget it.

The Doctor got up from his chair somewhat suddenly, startling Jack a bit. He paced back and forth at the head of the table, fiddling with the sonic. "Where is he?" he asked absently, his stomach knotting at the prospect of the reunion to come. Would she want to see him again? Would she even want to help? Whatever the outcome, at least she’d be alive again.

"I'm sure Castiel's on his way now," Jack assured him. "He doesn't waste time on a mission."

The Doctor nodded in understanding, but he hadn't truly been thinking about Cas until that second. He couldn't understand why Cas didn't recognize Amy in the picture he showed him, until he'd mentioned losing some of his memories to one of his siblings. Sadly, he didn't seem to remember her at all. How would Amy feel about that? Would that affect her decision to stay or leave? She'd loved him so much...so much more than she'd ever seemed to love her Raggedy Man.

 

* * *

 

The original plan had been to get Amy and "hightail" it back to the bunker, as Sam had put it, before any of Michael's associates could possibly find them. There was no doubt a resurrection would attract the attention of other supernatural beings, especially if Michael's loyal were keeping close watch. So Cas had to wonder exactly how he'd been talked into stopping at a pay-per-hour motel just so Amy could take a shower before being reunited with her best friend. He was sure that the Doctor would understand the state of her appearance, but she wouldn't hear it. They'd already stopped at a gas station to buy new clothes—a souvenir Ohio t-shirt and grey sweats that somehow cost more than the gas he'd purchased—to replace the half-eaten garments in which she'd crawled out of the ground. Now he felt anxious, as though there could be enemies kicking in their door any second. Sighing, he debated whether or not to knock on the bathroom door again.

Amy took her time, standing still and letting the water cascade over her shoulders. Showers had always been a favorite of hers, but she couldn't remember whether or not she'd missed them in the afterlife. She still couldn't remember anything about that, for that matter. It seemed like the harder she tried, the farther it slipped away from her consciousness. Instead, she focused on the current year: 2018. Only five years and some months of linear time had passed since her separation from the Doctor, which was sobering. Amy wondered how the Doctor would react when they reunited; for years after she'd left the TARDIS, she entertained the notion that he could've been angry with her for choosing to let the Angel take her. Washing her hair for the second time, she decided she could live with that possibility as long as she got to see him again. Her thoughts were interrupted by another knock at the door, and she begrudgingly turned off the luxuriously hot water.

"Please, Amy," Cas said, strained, "we can't be here much longer." She didn't answer but wrapped a towel around herself and walked into the room. He looked away a bit quickly, confusing her. He'd seen a lot more of her before, so why would he be embarrassed? Maybe a question more to the point was why he was treating her like a stranger. "Thank you," he murmured.

"I'm just gonna put my clothes on out here, yeah?" she suggested, grabbing the new garments and removing the tags. “It’ll be quicker.”

"I can go outside," he decided, already getting up to do so.

"Okay, Cas," she said abruptly, stepping into his path. "What's going on?"

He faltered for a second. "I'm not sure what you mean, but we really need to go."

Slowly she smiled at him, mistaking his hesitation for distraction instead of confusion. "Oh, I see. I should've known you were being coy." She stepped closer to him, so close that he could only look into her eyes. Looking anywhere else seemed risky. "I don't think a few more minutes will kill us," she finished softly, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him full on the mouth.

If it hadn't been for the urgency of their current situation he may have enjoyed the kiss more, maybe even kissing her back just for fun. But there could be no distractions, for Dean’s sake. He grabbed her hands before she could drop the towel around her chest, and pushed her off. "It really could," he countered, drawing on his last ounce of patience. Letting her go, he walked to the door. "Please put your clothes on."

Utterly bewildered, Amy turned to him. Even with a towel covering her, he still looked up to the ceiling. "Have I done something wrong? Are you upset with me?"

"How could I be mad at you when I barely know who you are?" he asked, desperate to end this conversation and get outside.

Her heart fell into her stomach as realization set in. "You...don't remember me."

"No, I'm sorry, I don't. Now please dress quickly." He left the room, leaving a perplexed and embarrassed Amy to do just that. Something was wrong here, but she still wished she hadn't just made a complete fool of herself as her "first impression" with him.

Not another word was said between them, the entire drive spent in relative silence. She tried to riddle it all out in her mind to no avail; maybe she’d just been that forgettable to him. They ditched Castiel’s car at the edge of a forest to avoid being followed. He felt awful for being so abrupt with the girl, no matter how forward she’d been or how dire the situation was. It was obvious he was supposed to know her; a wave of her sorrow rolled over him when he touched her shoulder to transport them for the last time. They appeared inside the TARDIS so that the ship would conceal his arrival, Amy quietly despairing over the fact that the Doctor had changed the design of the console room. As the guarded front door of what could only be the bunker appeared before them, she turned her thoughts to the hopefully happier reunion with her Raggedy Man that was yet to come.

 

* * *

 

Unsure of what else to do with himself, the Doctor went to the kitchen. It was a little less crowded, and he leaned his back against the counter. He looked up from the sonic screwdriver and did a double-take when he saw red hair across the room. Wait. _T_ _wo_ sets of red hair. The Doctor stood up straight and looked intently at the two women who had their backs to him, laughing at their own conversation. Surely Amy wasn't already here; someone would've told him.

The Doctor approached the duo, uncertain of what to say. He didn't have to worry about that long though, as the shorter woman turned around first with an excited "Oh!" when she saw him. "Hello, dear. I didn't know you'd already arrived." Not Amy, but definitely Scottish. She put her cup down on the counter behind her and turned back to offer her hand. The Doctor shook it, confused, which apparently showed on his face if her next words were any indication. "Sam told us you were coming," she said smoothly. "We're in his 'circle of trust,' you could say. I'm Rowena, Rowena MacLeod, and this is Charlie Bradbury."

Charlie shook his hand as well. "Hello. I'm actually in the 'circle of trust' and she wishes she were," she joked, to which Rowena gave a light _psh_ and the Doctor smiled. "Sorry about our...everything. We just came back from eighteen hours on the road, chasing a lead on Michael—"

"—Which turned out to be a dead end, unfortunately," Rowena supplied, sipping from her cup.

Charlie continued cautiously, letting go of his hand. "Sorry, I don't know if it's derogatory or not but...are you the alien?"

Rowena scoffed. " _So_ derogatory, love."

"No, no, it's fine," the Doctor assured them. "Technically, I am an alien on this planet. I'm the Doctor."

Now Charlie looked confused and Rowena rolled her eyes. "That's his name, dear. Do keep up." Charlie made a mocking face at her before taking a drink. "And I know much more than your name."

"Oh?" he asked, nervously scratching the back of his neck with the sonic. The look in Rowena's eye made him a bit uneasy.

"Yeah, she does. About four hours worth of information," Charlie stated. "I almost fell asleep—no offense. Your life sounds fascinating."

"I'm a big fan," Rowena said confidently.

"Oh, lovely," the Doctor replied, internally screaming. "But how do you—"

"Och, silly me!" the woman exclaimed. "Forgot to mention I'm a witch. Anyone who's as old as I am has heard about you." Charlie shook her head, recognizing the flirting tone in Rowena's voice. The Doctor recognized it, too, swallowing before laughing nervously.

"A witch, eh? Been a while since I've met one of you," he said cheerily.

"Oh, you've never met one like me," Rowena crooned, taking a step forward.

"Rowena, if you scare him away, Sam will literally kill you," Charlie said matter-of-factly, not even looking up from her cup. The witch looked back at her, turning her nose up at her friend. The Doctor was starting to wonder if "friend" was the right word to describe that relationship when she turned back to him with a smile.

"It was nice to meet you, dear Time Lord," she said in a more professional tone before flouncing out of the room.

"Sorry about her," Charlie said sincerely, but with a soft smile. "You tend to get used to her in time, even tune her out eventually."

The Doctor laughed lightly. "That's okay. I've been through worse."

Charlie went on to ask some questions that Rowena hadn't managed to answer, and the conversation made the Doctor feel more at ease. In turn, he asked about her life, and the answers were surprising. She'd been fighting for years alongside the other soldiers and had long given up on her dreams for a normal life, including her desire to work with computers. It was stories like this that reminded the Doctor of just how much war and violence tore lives apart—as if he should need reminding. "I'm so sorry," he said forlornly as they walked.

The library was much more empty as hunters and soldiers turned in for the night. The Doctor didn't realize how late it had gotten, and he hoped he wasn’t keeping Charlie awake. Staying isolated on his cloud too long made him forget how nice it was to simply talk to someone. "I came to terms with it a long time ago," Charlie reassured him as they sat at one of the now empty tables."Some things are more important than your own little world," she continued, "and I believe what we're doing is one of those things."

He nodded in understanding. In some ways, Charlie reminded him of Amy, red hair aside. They had similar determination when they set their minds to something if some of the young woman's stories were any indication. She was also kind but with a hardened exterior that was tough as nails, thanks to how her old world had treated her.

"Anyway," she redirected with a lighter tone, pushing her empty cup to the side, "tell me about this..'companion' of yours. Is she, by any chance, single?"

They both laughed, and the Doctor was about to answer until he heard his name called, looking behind Charlie.

"He's in here," Jack called back as he walked into the room, quickly accompanied by Sam.

"Good, we've been looking for you," Sam said, relieved. "Cas texted me five minutes ago and said they'd be on their way."

The Doctor's stomach turned nervously, but he tried to act calm. He had no idea what to say when he saw her, whether there was a right or wrong response. "I wonder what took so long."

"Oh, you of all people should know," a familiar voice said far off behind him. Hearts racing, the Doctor stood and turned around. Amy Pond glided down the stairs from the entrance with Castiel right behind, looking just as magnificent as she had the last moment he'd seen her all those years ago. She reached the landing, took a deep breath, and smiled at her best friend. "A good entrance is everything."

The weight of centuries melted from his shoulders as his feet carried him across the room. "Guess you saw to it that even death couldn't keep me down—" she began lightly, but she stopped abruptly when the Doctor took her in his arms. He said nothing but held her tightly, her arms eventually wrapping around him as the surprise of such a somber greeting wore off. She'd been expecting levity, maybe a comment alluding to her bright hair or long legs as per usual. Instead, pure relief and contentment washed over them both until Amy felt tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. She hid her face in his neck, tightening her hold on him. Sam motioned soundlessly to everyone else that they should leave the room with him; it was clear the two of them needed to be alone.

The Doctor noticed the emptiness of the room after a few more moments, slightly concerned he was making this awkward for her. "Um...Amy...should we stop?"

"No, never," she said in a quiet, watery voice. So he didn't.


	3. The Curious Incident on Hole Seventeen at Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure this won't be the first time I'm a day late updating as my job sometimes requires me to work six days in a row. I'd almost always rather be home writing. This is the long chapter so far, so get comfy--or just read half of it later. Thanks! (Warning: If you absolutely love Rory Williams to death and think he can do no wrong, there may be some bits towards the beginning of this chapter that you'll want to skip.)
> 
> I'm also still in the market for another beta reader. Interested? You can contact me at casography.tumblr.com.
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IOEqWKsKURAgpsEnKpjkV?si=JnAznNMKSJ6pzMH5fcWvzg)  
> "One Headlight" by The Wallflowers directly inspired the flashback scene.

Castiel felt the need to rest after using his powers so much in the course of one day, something he hesitated to tell anyone. He didn't want anyone benching him just because of a little fatigue. Unfortunately for him, Jack was a little more observant than Cas was discreet.

"You're tired," he said in a low voice as they left the Doctor and Amy in the main room, trying not to announce it to everyone else. Especially Sam. Sam seemed to have the least hope of all of them that things were going to work out. The last thing he needed to hear was that their main muscle was feeling less than all-powerful.

"I'll be fine," Cas answered quickly, turning to the young man. "Don't worry about me. It'll pass." He was sure it was related to the fact that Heaven was on its last legs, the lights in danger of going out due to a shortage of angels. His fault, he'd always think. From that catastrophe to finding Dean and taking out Michael, to finding a way to restore Jack's powers, their plates were more full than ever. _When it rains, it pours_ , he mused. It was something Dean would say from time to time.

Jack looked less than pleased with the answer, as he always worried about him. Castiel was the closest thing he had to a true father figure, so he wanted to help him any way possible. Yet Cas simply clapped him on the shoulder before going into his own room and shutting the door behind him. Somehow he still didn't have to suffer a roommate, and he took a deep breath for what felt like the first time all day.

He tried to clear his mind and think of something less stressful, so naturally, his thoughts supplied him with his newest acquaintance kissing him. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the bridge of his nose and instantly feeling guilty about the fantasy. Even so, he couldn't help but mull over the possibility that they had been involved long ago. There was so much of his long life missing thanks to Naomi's mind-wiping sessions. Amy seemed to be proof that more was lost than he realized—just one more thing to worry about.

There was a knock on the door a few minutes later. "It's unlocked," Cas stated loudly. Jack walked in, pillow and blanket in his arms.

"Sorry, um...because Charlie and Rowena came back—" Jack started, but Castiel cut him off with a raised hand.

"It's all yours," the angel said as he stood. "I have some leads I need to look into anyway."

"You said you were going to rest," he reminded him, making Cas sigh.

"You know I don't sleep, right?" he said somewhat sarcastically in the doorway, a slight curve to the corners of his lips.

Jack gave him his best no-nonsense expression as he fluffed his pillow, which Cas found more amusing than anything. "Still. We can't have you burning out." A pause. Jack realized that might be poor word choice. "We can't lose you."

Cas gave him a small, reassuring smile. "You won't. Good night." He left the room and walked down the hall to go find Sam, wishing those he cared for would stop worrying about him constantly. He was willing to do whatever it took to win the war that was sure to come, no matter the personal cost. They would endure without him if it came to that. He walked into the library to see Sam exactly how he'd been on and off for the past twenty-four hours: hunched over a laptop, typing away, and researching with eyelids so obviously heavy that they threatened to touch the keyboard. The angel sighed yet again, but much louder.

"Sam, go to bed," he said without hesitation.

"Just one sec," Sam said dismissively, voice apathetic.

"Go. To. Bed," Cas repeated, emphasizing every word sternly. It made the hunter look up and huff anxiously as he mussed his hair.

"Cas, I just need to—"

"No," he interrupted, walking over to Sam's chair, "you _need_ to rest. I'll continue where you left off, plus I have some new leads that came in while I was retrieving Amy."

Sam laughed slightly. "You make resurrection sound like a milk run." Cas was about to continue when he laughed again. "'Milk run'... That's a funny phrase, too."

"You're slap-happy," Cas stated.

He scoffed slightly but nodded. "Maybe you're right." He rubbed his eyes then rubbed his whole face, standing and stretching. "A few hours won't change anything if two weeks haven't." He walked by his best friend, clapping him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Cas."

"Good night," he responded, taking a seat at the computer. He should've felt maybe a little triumphant, except that Sam had seemed a little too easily convinced. Deciding not to give it any more thought, he got to work.

Sam walked to his room, thinking about the last time he slept. He'd dreamt about the final battle with Lucifer detail for detail, except he only awoke when Michael killed him while wearing Dean's face. It made him wonder exactly why the archangel hadn't tried to do that in the first place; he had to know that Sam wasn't going to give up his brother just like that. He had to know that they were working (almost) tirelessly to find him. Knowing monsters though, that's probably what Michael was counting on.

Once Sam got into bed, he picked up his phone and started working on a lead that would be easy to research without multiple browser tabs. He could sleep when his brother was safe.

* * *

"They erased _everything_?"

No longer confused, Amy felt rage bubbling up in her chest at the knowledge that part of Castiel's memory had been wiped. She and the Doctor were sitting on the floor of the console room in the TARDIS playing out years of Catch-Up. Compared to the Doctor's two-and-a-half centuries, Amy's eighty years seemed like a day at the mall. Yet it eased her mind from the prospect of him having been alone all that time. He'd apparently done so much that it took hours—which she didn't mind, of course—until they got to the question that was most heavily pressing on her mind. The question of Castiel.

"I'm so sorry, Amy," the Doctor said solemnly, rubbing her shoulder. "I know he was very important to you." His stomach tightened at the memory of seeing them embrace that morning on the TARDIS all those years ago.

Though it hurt, Amy just sniffed and shrugged. "That was so long ago. He's an angel. He probably would've eventually forgotten anyway."

"Amy," he countered softly, taking her hand in his. She should've known he'd see right through the tough-girl facade, but she persisted.

"Really, it's okay," she assured him, squeezing his hand. "Maybe it's for the best. It sounds like we all need to focus on this mission as much as possible."

"Yes...of course." The Doctor still wasn't buying it, but he was willing to change the subject. Maybe she wouldn't lie when it came to this. He hesitated for some moments, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand, before finally asking. "Why were you in Maine, Amy?"

The question caught her off-guard, though she felt silly that it did. Why wouldn't he ask why she'd been buried hundreds of miles from her tombstone in New York? It was a reasonable question to which she dreaded giving the answer.

"After the TARDIS...after the Angels...Rory and I eventually drifted apart." Amy stared at the floor in front of her crossed legs, unable to look him in the eye. "We realized part of the reason we'd adopted Anthony was to try and save our marriage. It wasn't the bigger part, mind. We wanted a child and we loved him so, so very much...but Rory and I were better off apart. Sometimes, it was like we were constantly searching for little things to argue about, little ways to get under each other's skin. It was maddening.

"He felt that to blend in, I had to change along with everything else. That if I was too authoritative or 'mouthy' it would somehow instantly give away the truth that I was not this...perfect, dutiful wartime housewife." She paused, taking a deep breath. "So one day, years later, I threw him out. Anthony was only three. We eventually worked things out for him, but not enough to be able to live together. We divorced, I pursued my writing career as you probably know, Rory became a doctor. I got weekdays with Anthony and Rory got weekends, we alternated holidays...we got on with our lives." She was leaving out some very big parts that she hoped the Doctor would never need to know about, but it was her life so she felt she had the right.

"So, your afterword...that wasn't all true," the Doctor said. A statement, not a question.

She met his eyes then, seeing empathy instead of betrayal. Still, she could barely whisper, "Sorry," from the shame she felt. _Never let him see the damage_ , River had said. She'd never wanted him to.

"Oh, Amelia," he said mournfully, pulling her into a side hug. "If only I could've been there to do something—"

"That's just it, Doctor," she began with some perturbation, pulling back to face him. "It wasn't fixable, and we tried for years. He wanted something that I could never give him. And...back in Leadworth, even when we were traveling with you, I was so terrified of being alone. I latched on to him, but we really would've been better as friends. I only realized after I'd chosen that day in the graveyard. I had to ask myself why I'd followed him and...I could never give myself a concrete answer."

"But you loved him, right?" the Doctor interjected, baffled by what he was hearing.

Amy laughed softly. "He always said he loved me more than I could ever love him, threw it in my face I don't know how many times, but he was wrong. I loved him just as much as he loved me...but not in the same way."

The Doctor let out a long, dejected sigh. "I guess it's a good thing I didn't insist he be brought back, too."

She laughed again, a light, dismissive sound. He'd missed her laugh more than he could comprehend. "I'd say so. You might've had a constantly quarreling pair of exes."

"That might've been fun though," he joked, to which she shoved his arm. They were laughing when the door flew open and Cas ran in. The two of them immediately stood, dropping each other's hand.

"We got something," Cas announced, trying but failing not to look at her.

"Excellent! We'll be right out," the Doctor replied as he left. "You must've brought along some good fortune, Pond. They've been waiting for a worthy tip for _weeks_." Amy laughed again and was about to walk away when the Doctor gently caught her by the elbow. "You..don't have to do this. If it's too difficult being around him, I understand."

Amy's expression softened from confusion to gratitude. She leaned in and gave the Doctor a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, but I'd rather help save the world." She started to walk out of the TARDIS but turned on her heel to face him. "We _are_ going to talk about this...redecorating you did," she warned him, gesturing around at the interior. His smile faded; he'd been hoping to avoid that conversation. It wasn't exactly cheerful.

When they got to the library everyone else was already there, with Sam at the head of the table on his laptop. It was three in the morning, but everyone in the "circle of trust" felt wide awake at the prospect of new information on Michael. All the seats closest to Sam's end of the table were taken by Jack, Charlie, and Rowena. The Doctor, Amy, and Cas stood behind Sam, Cas muttering an apology when he bumped into Amy's shoulder. The awkwardness was palpable to all three of them—and the ever-watchful Rowena—for different reasons, but it was only day one. Surely it would get better.

"Got a call from a hunter in Indiana fifteen minutes ago, not too far outside of Indianapolis," Sam began, "He said the power's out widespread in his county, but before the lights went out there was a blastwave that felt like an earthquake."

"Could've been an angel fight," Jack supplied.

"There aren't many of those left though," Charlie chimed in, but she saw the look of apprehension on Cas' face and instantly regretted it. "I just meant...the odds of that being the case are lower."

"You're right though," Cas stated. "It wasn't angels."

"It couldn't have been, because the blast was completely silent," Sam continued. "Angels never die quietly, and I don't know of any bombs or other weapons that can detonate without making some kind of sound. I don't know what we're up against. Something with that much power to blow out electricity over miles and be completely quiet—"

"—sounds like the opening of a rift," the Doctor finished distractedly, fiddling with Sam’s coffee mug. Everyone turned to look at him, including Sam. He noticed their staring and placed the mug back on the table. "Oh, did I say that aloud?"

"You really think that's what it could be?" Sam asked.

"Well, it fits," the Doctor said. "It depends on how far the outage spread before we can determine how big the portal is. Maybe it's not too bad." He ended with an encouraging smile to the group.

Sam skimmed the email he'd been sent. "It's about a ten-mile radius, give or take."

"Oh, that's bad," the Doctor changed his tone, a bit frantic. "Very bad. Possibly interdimensional, definitely across time."

"Could it be Apocalypse World?" Jack asked.

"Doubtful," Cas answered. "Apocalypse World is only parallel to ours in time and space. A portal to and from it doesn’t even take out a city block. Plus, anyone who wanted to come here from there has already done so." He paused. “Who knows what’s come through this one.”

“So now we quite possibly have _another_ Michael-sized problem,” Rowena added tiredly. “That’s just marvelous.”

"Wait, we're still speaking hypothetically, right?" Charlie asked in a worried tone, to which the group answered with a varied chorus of "Right," "Of course," and "What the hell is Apocalypse World?"

Sam turned to Amy. "Wait, what?"

"What the hell is Apocalypse World?" Amy repeated, feeling completely in the dark. Sam looked at the Doctor and Cas, waiting for an explanation.

"Oh, right," Cas groaned.

"We were supposed to debrief you," the Doctor said quietly to Amy. "Sorry everyone, we should only delay things a few more moments."

"Well, I was supposed to debrief her on the road," Cas cut in.

"Yeah, that was probably my fault," Amy confessed, reluctantly remembering her horrendous faux-pas back at the motel.

Sam and the Doctor both looked confused. "How—"

"Later," Cas said quickly, somewhat flustered. "We'll go to the kitchen." They began walking, but Amy was having a hard time getting her brain to shut up about the hand innocently placed on the middle of her back.

"Doctor, come on!" she shouted back over her shoulder, voice breaking anxiously. He started towards the kitchen after them, shrugging towards a still-puzzled Sam.

Charlie laughed quietly, leaned over the table to Jack and Rowena. "I bet _someone_ debriefed someone, you know what I mean?"

Rowena laughed and lightly slapped Charlie's hand scoldingly, but Jack smiled and shook his head. "No, what..."

"Oh, wee lamb," Rowena said sympathetically, tousling Jack's hair to his eternal ire. Sam just let his head drop into his hands, reminding himself that this was only day one of their group. Meanwhile, Cas was in the kitchen reminding himself to be more patient with Amy this time around. It only took a few minutes to explain about Michael, Apocalypse World, and everything else that was pertinent to the mission ahead. However, he noticed that everything else in the room seemed more interesting to Amy than what he was saying, even her own fingernails.

"You think you've got it?" Cas asked once he was finished.

"Yep, I understand," Amy said emphatically with a nod, anything to get this conversation over with. She thought the Doctor being in the room would help mitigate any awkward vibes she might give off, but it turned out her vibes were more those of guilt and embarrassment. The Doctor was confused as to why he was even in the room, but he figured any reason to be around Amy after all their time apart was a good reason.

"Are you sure?" Cas verified. "You seemed to be looking around the room a lot while I was explaining our very precarious situation." He was emphasizing words as well, trying to make it clear that this was serious.

"No, I heard you loud and clear, promise," she assured him, still not exactly making eye contact.

Castiel sighed, deciding to settle for her reply. "Very well, then."

"Wonderful," the Doctor piped up. "If you're done, I'm going to go talk portals with Samuel some more."  Amy was about to protest, but he was already gone. Mildly annoyed, she decided she'd take a different approach to the elephant in the room. She and Cas were halfway down the hall when she grabbed his arm, making him stop and turn to her.

"I'm sorry about earlier...at the motel," she said quietly, letting go of his arm and looking him in the eye once more.

"Amy, it's okay," he answered, somewhat rushed.

"No, it's not," she insisted. "It was awful and aggressive, and completely unprofessional."

"It was unprofessional," Cas agreed, "but we can just start over from here, okay?"

Amy nodded. "So we're good? Just like that?"

He smiled slightly. "Just like that."

She smiled back as they continued down the hall. After they got back to the library, the team of seven decided how to divide up between two vehicles. Charlie and Rowena agreed they could stand another long drive in Charlie's truck, and the other five piled into the Impala. Sam wouldn't let anyone else drive and the Doctor agreed to sit up front so they could keep discussing aspects of interdimensional travel, leaving Amy and Cas to take the backseat with Jack in the middle. Amy was pretty sure Sam also needed someone to help keep him awake on the road.

They prattled on for a couple of hours, Amy took a nap, and Jack listened to music on an old iPod. Soon the front seat grew quieter; there was only so much perspective the Doctor could offer, even on such an interesting topic. Amy awoke five hours into the trip, dismayed to learn that they were barely halfway there. She'd forgotten how boring and painfully slow car rides were when compared to the speed of space-time travel.

"Tell me again why we couldn't take the TARDIS," Amy groaned groggily.

"Because she gives off energy signatures that would catch the attention of Michael's men in seconds," the Doctor explained. He felt weird and bogged down riding in a car as well, but he could barely complain due to her company.

"Gotcha," she answered, giving him a finger gun.

"If you were already dead, how old are you now?" Jack asked Amy, trying to make conversation.

"Jack," Sam said, surprised. "You don't usually ask women that—"

"Oh, it's fine," Amy assured him. "I haven't really done the math yet, but let’s see. I was born in 1989, arrived in 1938 when I was thirty-six, then died in...1989 when I was eighty-seven. And that was twenty-nine years ago so.....wow, that's 116. I'm 116 years old in total. Huh. Interesting—I never realized I died the year I was born." She chuckled at the irony. "And what about you?"

“I’m one,” Jack replied simply.

Amy waited. “You’re one what?”

"I'm a little over one year old," he elaborated.

Amy blinked at him for a moment. "Sorry, what?" Cas stifled a laugh. The Doctor raised his eyebrows at Sam, who nodded.

"Jack's a nephilim," Sam explained. "They're pretty much born fully grown, or they age to adulthood within minutes—well, late-adolescent—"

"I _was_ a nephilim," Jack corrected somewhat morosely. Amy knew there was a story there, but Cas cut in before she could ask.

"We say he's seventeen if anyone asks," he advised. She nodded, and the conversation dropped for a few minutes.

"Cas?" Jack began. "Is there a secondary meaning for the word 'debriefing'?"

Castiel thought for a moment. "I don't believe so."

"Oh, boy," Sam said quietly, shaking his head as the rest of the car thought it over.

The remainder of the ride went by in relative silence, broken every now and then by Jack pointing out a landmark or someone in either car having to stop to use the facilities. Bored, the Doctor eventually started sonicking, almost breaking the glove compartment latch as the contents spilled out on his feet. He mumbled apologies towards Sam’s disapproving glance as he cleaned up the mess, grumbling an “Oh, dear,” as he gently returned a handgun to its home. He sat fairly still after that. Amy slept some more, surprised that she needed to since she'd just napped for nigh on thirty years. They finally arrived in Carmel, Indiana in the afternoon, quickly noticing that the town was still without power.

"You'd think they'd have everything up and running by now," Charlie pointed out as they walked towards a diner for a late lunch. Sam held the door open for everyone. Amy was grateful since she once again felt famished, but she noticed that the shorter red-haired woman didn't seem all that impressed.

"An _Irish_ pub?" Rowena asked with a raised eyebrow as she walked through the door. "Really, Samuel. It's like you don't know me at all."

Sam smiled a little bit, rolling his eyes. "The hunter we're meeting here picked it. Is there really any difference between a Scottish and Irish pub?"

"Yes," Rowena and Amy chimed in sync, the latter giving the hunter a teasing smile.

Sam laughed lightly, closing the door. "Alright, guys, I think we're a little early. Anyone who's hungry can go ahead and order, whoever wants to sit in on the—Rowena, not too much alcohol, okay? We all need to stay focused," he interrupted himself, noting that the witch was already heading toward the bar.

"Oh, you know me, dear," she sang over her shoulder. Sam gave a discontented sigh at that before continuing.

"I like her," Amy whispered to the Doctor.

He nodded. "I figured you might," he said with a smirk.

Those who were hungry put in their orders and waited; the kitchen was running off of generators and the cooks were doing the best they could. But once the food came, the miles they'd traveled faded away as people laughed and joked and told stories. Those who wanted to sit in on Sam and the local hunter's exchange gradually left the table until only Amy and the Doctor were left.

"Go on, you should be over there," Amy said, waving him away.

"Nah, they'll be fine without me," he said, leaning on the table with both arms. "I already heard the word 'portal' thrown around a few times, so I must've been right about that. Also offered to teach the chef how to properly make colcannon. He didn't seem to like that much."

Amy laughed lightly. "Still, it's just me eating," she countered, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "You're not missing anything."

The Doctor looked down at his hands, fiddled with a straw wrapper. "I reckon I'm disinclined to ever leave your side again, Pond," he stated confidently, somewhat morose.

She hung her head and swallowed, a well of guilt burning in her stomach. They both knew who'd really done the leaving last. No matter what he said, she knew it was her fault that he felt that way; and no matter what she said, he was anxious that she could disappear into thin air at any moment. She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut short by a small, "Ahem," and looked over her shoulder to find Rowena standing there.

"Come to the bar with me, dear?" the small woman offered, casually stirring a martini.

A pause. "Of course," Amy said, standing to accompany her. She turned back to give the Doctor a shrug, which made him smile. At the bar Amy ordered a gin and tonic, seating herself beside the regal and somehow imposing woman. They made their introductions and sat a moment in silence before Rowena spoke.

"Word to the wise, liquor hits harder right after a resurrection," she imparted. "Best to take it slow."

"Thank you," Amy said earnestly.

"So, your fella's quite the fusser, no?" she asked in amusement after a moment, earning her raised eyebrows from Amy. "Well we could've blathered on for an hour about your history and my tragic past, but life's short sometimes. I say get right to the good stuff."

"Oh, no, he's not my...fella," she said, elongating the last word awkwardly.

"Really?" she said with a tone of surprise. "That was quite an embrace you two shared back at the bunker."

Amy hurriedly shook her head. "No, no, we're just...friends. Best friends. It had been a long time since we'd seen each other."

"Yes, I heard. Centuries for him," the witch said dramatically.

"Yeah, he'd never go for that type of thing, you know," she said confidently. Amy wasn't sure why she was adamantly trying to quash this woman's idea of her and the Doctor, except that she _was_ sure why. If this got back to him, Amy might have to deal with the awkward and dramatic klutziness he always displayed when confronted with amorous concepts of any sort. She wasn't ready for that just yet. Maybe after a few more drinks.

"What, romance? Certain circles would beg to differ, love," Rowena said smoothly, taking the last gulp of her drink and gesturing to the bartender.

" _Him?"_ Amy said sternly, pointing a thumb over her shoulder and shaking her head. "No, trust me, I tried before..long ago." She hesitated, then smirked. "Quite literally a lifetime ago."

"So have others," Rowena insisted, unswayed. "And succeeded, rumor implies."

Now Amy was confused. "How would you even hear something like that?"

"The man's famous throughout the universe, darling, kind of hard not to hear," she explained. "Although he's been tragically silent for some years. I suppose now I know why."

Amy felt a knot of dread in her chest. "What? What do you mean?"

"Well, the reigning story is that he spent centuries in isolation, mourning a terrible loss," Rowena said sympathetically. "And if you weren't that 'terrible loss,' I haven't the foggiest what it could've been."

"Really?" Amy turned to look at the Doctor, who was fiddling with the sonic screwdriver. She'd gotten the impression from Cas that he'd been alone for some time, but it had been quelled by her conversation with the Doctor after their reunion. Was he actively lying to her? Could she even be angry, seeing as she was holding on to her fair share of secrets, too? And her secrets weren't little. Not even close.

"I know a few spells if you'd like to get to the bottom of it," Rowena offered, taking a sip of her drink. She noticed the young woman seemed rather upset at the knowledge that her "friend" had been alone. Maybe this mission wouldn't be so boring after all.

Amy turned back to her, giving her an unconvincing smile. She wasn't even surprised that this woman had just revealed herself to be a witch; it made sense that someone on this trip was. "Thanks but...I'll take it from here."

"Aye, there's a good lass," Rowena said proudly—and loudly—making Amy laugh. "Self-sufficiency makes queens of us all."

Amy laughed again. "I think you've had enough, yeah?"

"Psh, I'm just getting started," Rowena said, waving a hand at her.

"Rowena, Amy, we gotta run," Sam said quickly from a few feet away. Rowena sighed sadly and Amy downed the rest of her drink before walking back over to the Doctor.

"What did you two talk about?" the Doctor asked, linking his arm with Amy's. She leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked out of the pub.

"Oh, you know...Scottish stuff," she lied with a small laugh. Lying, keeping secrets, drinking—Amy hadn't been back any time at all, and it already felt just like the good old days.

So why did she feel so awful?

* * *

Minutes later, the team arrived on the outskirts of a country club. ("Now this is more like it," Rowena said to Sam, earning a disgruntled _ugh_ in response.) The local hunter, Felix, explained that it was shut down for the day due to the outage.

"But there have also been rumors that someone went missing last night around the time the lights went out," Sam relayed, insisting on repeating all relevant information to make sure everyone remembered. "A local 12-year-old boy, Preston Sanders, was last seen running away from home about an hour before the lights went out. Felix suggested the police search here, but they've had a backlog of calls today and won't be able to get around to it. But the origins of the energy signatures given off by this portal seem to come from the golf course, according to Felix's equipment. Nobody's actually seen the rift yet, so be on the lookout." Sam had everyone walk to the Impala's trunk and opened it, passing out weapons. "We're taking every precaution here, guys. By now anything could've come out of the portal from almost anywhere, so stay on guard. Got it?" Everyone nodded except— "Amy?"

Amy was still staring wide-eyed at the plethora of weapons and artifacts stuffed in the back of the car she'd just rode in for almost nine hours. "Wha—oh yeah, got it." She gave a thumbs up to reinforce her words, so Sam nodded.

"Good," he began. "Charlie and Rowena, we'll go with Felix and cover the front nine. Doc, Amy, Jack, Cas, you cover the back nine. We'll rendezvous back here in three hours if nothing's found." Before they split off he caught up with the Doctor, making sure everyone else was out of earshot. "Doctor, are you sure she's ready for this? She only just came back."

The Doctor looked over at Amy who seemed to be trading her gun to Charlie for a bowie knife; he'd forgotten her hesitation to use firearms ever since her pistol mishap in Mercy. With a small smile, he turned back to Sam. "She'll be fine. I believe she's just a little rusty. I'll keep an eye on her."

"Okay," Sam relented, then he seemed hesitant to continue. "Have you told her why she's back? The reason the hunters need her?"

Dread settled over the Doctor like a heavy fog. "No, um...not yet."

Sam's lips twitched with a half-encouraging smile. "Maybe that's for the best." He patted the Doctor on the shoulder and walked away, leading his group to the golf course. The Time Lord took a deep breath to clear his head and joined his group, ignoring the heavy stone that had just settled in his stomach.

Everything was quiet for almost half an hour as they searched hole after hole, coming up with nothing.

"I don't understand, which is really saying something," the Doctor began quietly, "but how do you hide a rift?"

"It would take a great amount of energy, potentially magic," Cas explained, "almost greater than what it takes to generate the portal itself."

"So then isn't it possible that it's actively keeping the power from coming back on?" the Doctor asked, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

Cas stopped and turned to his friend. "I suppose it is," he admitted. "Probably highly likely. Felix said everything that was damaged in the blastwave has been repaired and still nothing's working."

"So the portal or whatever's cloaking it is constantly draining energy," Amy summed up as they started walking again.

"That would make sense," Cas replied. "If that's the case, I don't know how we'll ever find it."

"Lovely," Amy said sarcastically.

The four had already searched high and low from hole ten to hole fifteen. Amy didn't even know what specifically to look _for_ , but didn't feel like saying so would be constructive. Maybe it was one of those things you couldn't miss, like the crack in the wall she'd grown up with. Unfortunately, the sun was getting lower and lower in the sky, meaning they would soon be in trouble if this thing could only be found in the daylight.

The sunset was almost gone by the time they walked onto hole seventeen. They'd thoroughly checked every valley and sand trap they'd come across. All but Cas felt that their eyes had been strained to the limit, searching for anything and observing everything for any signs of an abnormality. Amy glanced over her shoulder to check on Jack only to find that he wasn't there. "Jack?" She looked behind them to find that he'd stopped a few yards back, staring at the ground. Amy doubled back, but Jack held a finger up to stop her when she got close. "What?"

"Don't you hear that?"

"No." She only heard the Doctor and Cas as they approached behind her, so she assumed she couldn't hear "that."

"It sounds like humming, but it's really quiet," Jack almost whispered.

"Where?" the Doctor asked. Jack gestured to the air right in front of him as the Doctor tiptoed over with the sonic screwdriver. He changed a few settings before pointing it into the air, moving it towards the ground and back up again as if scanning.

"I don't think it's working," Cas said after a moment.

"Wait—it's getting louder," Jack said.

After a few more seconds Amy could hear a _hum_ like she was standing outside an arena concert where the bass was turned up full blast. "I hear it, too."

"And I." The Doctor glanced at her, continuing with the sonic. "If I can reach the same resonance...we should be able to—"

" _Wait!_ " Cas shouted suddenly, grabbing Jack around the shoulders and knocking him back to the ground. The Doctor barely let go of the sonic when the cloaking shattered in a bright burst of light that knocked him and Amy off of their feet.

* * *

The Doctor stood at the edge of the graveyard just outside New York City, conflicted. He watched from afar as the service concluded and people—who he assumed were Amy's closest publishing consultants and friends—shook hands and hugged, wiping away tears. On the one hand, he was frustrated he'd missed what all they had to say about the woman they thought they knew. On the other, it was quite fitting: he'd been late for most everything in her life. Why should missing her death be any different?

The coffin lowered slowly into the ground, and the thought of both alien and human cultures where spouses threw themselves on the casket as a final goodbye, tearing at their garments and wailing. Better yet, cultures where loved ones threw themselves on a funeral pyre if they so wished. One final act of unwavering, manic devotion.

_Oh, Amelia_ , he thought. _If only I had some firewood_.

He heard her footsteps in the grass, wished unfairly that they were her mother's, saw her out of the corner of his eye as she stopped beside him. "Damn it," River cursed. "We missed everything."

"Yes, we did," he replied pointedly. River had insisted on driving the TARDIS, said it had been a while and that she missed it. Still, he reminded himself to curb any anger with her, no matter the reason. She was grieving as well.

"I'm sorry," she apologized unsteadily, placing a hand on his arm. He tried not to be annoyed by that. "I thought we had time, I must've gotten it wrong."

"No, it's not you," he began, turning to her. Her eyes were already puffy, so he softened his tone even more. "We never had enough time, she and I." He looked back on the scene as the gravediggers began shoveling in the soil and the people walked slowly back to their cars, their feet heavy under the weight of their sorrow, the Doctor knew. His feet had felt like that for years now.

"Are you sure it was a good idea for you?" she asked carefully. "Being here for this?"

"No," he said truthfully, "but I owed her at least this."

"What, torturing yourself?" she inquired, almost accusingly.

"Yeah," he replied with a watery smile. _I tortured her enough. Maybe we're almost even now_. A long span of time passed before River spoke again, the cold December air stinging their cheeks as they stood and watched the diggers pat down the soil on the newly filled plot.

"Well," River started, sounding more pleasant, more casual. "Now that she's gone, you can finally admit it to yourself."

"What?"

"You loved her," she stated, earning a slight scoff and a shake of his head. "You were in love with her."

"Like hell I was," he snapped defensively as if she'd accused him of some terrible sin. Though it had always felt like one to him, like something perverted and unnatural. At least, that was how it felt when she was around. Nowadays, still being in love with Amy just felt pathetic. He sighed; so much for curbing his anger. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she responded. "And you were." Slowly, she removed her hand from his arm, making him look up at her. "So my presence must not be helping much."

He caught her hand and clasped it between both of his. "River, I wanted you here. I couldn't do this alone. After all I put her through I—" The Doctor looked down to the ground, shaking his head. He wasn't too sure how to articulate it, how he'd ruined Amy's life. He just knew he had. It went deeper than all the times he'd been late or all the times he'd treated her like a child—or worse. Like she meant less than all the stars and galaxies in the cosmos. Just to try and convince himself not to love her. All he'd succeeded in doing was hurting her more. And _then_ he got her killed.

River placed a hesitant hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes, trying not to flinch away. "She lived well, Doctor. I promise."

He looked up and nodded, although it was no consolation. "Yeah, just in the wrong time." Once he gently took her hand away and dropped it, he began the slow trudge back to the TARDIS. Back to his brilliant mausoleum.

Now that it was all over, that Amy was finally put to rest, River knew he'd want to be alone for a while. Against her mother's wishes, she'd grant him that. After all, she felt that Amy had asked plenty of her, almost too much. River was now the only one still living that knew all her life's secrets; Amy hadn't even told Anthony her biggest ones, for fear he'd spend the rest of his life thinking his mother died insane.

River shook her head as her eyes filled with tears, changing the settings on her vortex manipulator to take her to her mother's real tomb. The air around her rose some in temperature, filling with salt brine as her feet landed on the cliff. She took a few steps to kneel on the fresh dirt in front of the stone, resting a hand on the mound of soil. The real funeral had only been a few days prior.

"Oh, mum," she breathed. She always felt silly talking to her grave, but it truly made her feel closer to her. "He didn't suspect a thing. I guess you were a pretty good liar after all." Her stomach turned uneasily as she thought of how she'd made him late to the funeral on purpose, an added effort to keep him from seeing the empty casket. River traced her mother's name with her finger, her last task for her finally complete. "I hope you know what you're doing."

* * *

 Amy's head spun so she couldn't sit up, her ears ringing from the blast. She blinked rapidly, which seemed to help slow the spinning, and looked to her left. The Doctor was sitting up, staring in awe at something in front of them. He seemed to remember the sonic in that moment and grabbed around on the ground until he found it, only to let out a yell. She could see from the way he held it that it was fried beyond repair, his expression dismayed as he mouthed something along the lines of "damn sonic." She tried again to sit up and was able to rest on her elbows, drawing the Doctor's attention and causing him to disregard the screwdriver altogether. "Amy!" He reached her and took her face in his hands, immediately checking for signs of a concussion.

"I'm fine, I think," she said loudly as the ringing continued. "I have not missed explosions."

He smiled a bit, mouthing something she couldn't make out. "What? I can't hear you." He helped her sit up and she looked forward to see a large bright white sliver hanging in midair, vibrating. If Cas hadn't pushed Jack out of the way, he very well could've been sucked into it. "Bloody hell." Cas and Jack were standing a few feet back from it, weapons at the ready. They were walking over to Amy and the Doctor, keeping their eyes on the portal as he helped her stand.

"Are you both okay?" Cas asked her, his voice coming through a little fuzzy. The Time Lord nodded for himself.

"I think so," she yelled, never breaking eye contact with the light as she drew out her knife. Jack and Cas moved to stand in front of them; a gun and an angel blade would be more effective than a knife and nothing.

A moment later the fissure expanded, becoming so bright that Amy had to look away until it faded. When it did, a young boy stood before them with a look of shock and terror on his face. She assumed it was the missing boy, but to her horror, he had what looked like ruins carved into his arms.

"What happened?!" the child yelled, but his face softened to recognition almost immediately. His fists unfurled and he put his hands on his hips. "Castiel?"

It took Cas a few seconds to recognize the grace he saw. "Dumah?" He shook his head. "What are you doing down here? Does Naomi know—"

" _Shh_ , please," Dumah urged him, holding his hands up. "I'm drawing too much attention as it is. Why did you break my warding? It was cloaking me."

"That was an accident," the Doctor spoke up, acting hurt. "Why did you ruin my screwdriver?"

"What?" the kid—angel—asked in exasperation.

"Dumah," Cas said, trying to get his attention back on him. "Whatever you are doing, you're involving an innocent child in this. Let him go."

"He said yes of his own free will," Dumah pointed out. "There is no hope left for Heaven, at least not the Heaven in this dimension. I have to go if there's any hope of even one of us surviving."

"What?" Cas asked incredulously. "You've been standing firm all this time, all of you. What's changed?"

"It's Michael."

The silence was deafening. "You've seen him," Jack concluded. Dumah nodded, fear in his eyes and a tremor in his voice as he spoke.

"Naomi sent me down here on a mission. It was a risk, but it was vastly important. I worked with other creatures to find this artifact that's rumored to stop Michael. We know it works; it's a weapon not of this world. We were close to finding it and its owner, but...he found out somehow." Dumah gulped, voice shaking. "He wiped them out with a _thought_ , Castiel. He would've killed me, too, if I hadn't been in the next room."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't want _any_ of the beings of this realm, not even the angels. I heard him say it. He said we're too used to our reality to be obedient to his plan. I almost went back to Heaven, but I didn't want to take a chance of leading him straight to Heaven's gate. I wound up here but... _he's coming_. He's coming for us." Those words were terrifying enough without them being said in the voice of a child. Amy felt chills run up her spine.

"You can't just leave," Cas implored. "You're putting billions of souls in Heaven at risk by taking your power with you. They all need you."

"I won't be any good to anyone if I'm dead!" Dumah insisted, throwing his arms up.

"The artifact," Amy piped up, causing the others to turn to her. "What is it?"

"It's a spear," Dumah started. "Apparently, it has wounded him before. But it doesn't mean anything if we can't find it, even less if we die trying. If Heaven survives this all, I promise I'll come back. In the meantime, I must close this gateway soon—"

"His name is Preston," Amy began.

Dumah hesitated. "I know his name," he said with some irritation.

"He has a family who's looking for him," she continued, gently pressing the Doctor away and standing on her own. "They'll be heartbroken if they lose him."

Dumah sighed, shaking his head. "They'll be fine. I went back and erased him from their memories. It's the only reason I'm still here and the portal's still open."

"What?" Cas said angrily.

"Jesus," Amy softly exclaimed in disgust.

"I have to go," Dumah insisted, taking steps backwards towards the portal.

"No," Cas said sternly, raising the angel blade. "I can't let you do this."

Dumah looked at the blade then up to Castiel, confused. "What? You would stop me by killing me? I thought you said no more dead angels, especially by your hand. Does it escape your memory that you're part of the problem? Part of the reason our remaining numbers dwindled so fast after the Fall?!" By the end, he was yelling.

Amy felt sick as the implications of the angel's words sunk in. She remembered long ago when Cas said she'd hate him if he told her the whole truth about what he'd done.  _Then don't tell me_ , she'd said. _It has nothing to do with me_. Now, with the issue staring her in the face, it didn't seem so unimportant. Castiel lowered the blade, knowing Dumah was right.

The look on Dumah's face lightened. "You should come with me."

Cas immediately shook his head. "I would never take the coward's way out."

"Please," Dumah begged. "Two surviving is better than one."

"It's not survival. It's turning your back on everyone that cares about you," Cas growled, taking a step towards the angel. "You're running scared simply because you feel you can't handle what's happening." The Doctor gulped, a note of what Castiel spoke resonating with him. Cas's expression and tone softened then. "Just...go home. Stand by our family. There _is_ hope and there is _always_ another way."

But Dumah was not convinced. "I wish I had your faith, brother," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry." He took a final step back to let the rift envelop him.

"No!" Castiel began to lunge, but the others caught him in time to keep him from going through as well. The portal closed and they were plunged into darkness. When their eyes adjusted, they noticed pinpoints of light coming towards them from across the green; it was Sam and his group, running towards them with their flashlights on.

"Is everyone okay?" Sam asked. Cas and the others nodded, though their expressions suggested otherwise. "Was that the..."

"Yes," Castiel said, looking up from the ground to Sam. "We just lost our first battle to Michael."

The other four were incredulous and confused, but the ones who'd witnessed Dumah's flight felt the weight of Cas's words in their chests. It was true; if fear of Michael was allowed to run rampant throughout all of creation, they could lose any chance of defeating him before they even found him.

"I'll explain in the car," Cas said mournfully and started to walk away. "Let's go." But he stopped short as a burst of pain echoed through his mind, followed by what felt like part of his life force draining away. Pressing his hands over his head, he already knew that it was the energy of Dumah's grace cutting off from Heaven's power reserves forever, causing a massive ripple through the continuum. It occurred to Cas that it was only so intense because there was barely any power left in Heaven as it was.

"Are you alright, dear?" Rowena asked softly behind him.

"I'm fine," he huff, steeling himself and continuing forward. Everyone else eventually followed suit, but the despair was palpable even to those who didn't yet fully understand what had happened. They all walked as if leaving a funeral, the Doctor's arm around Amy and Sam's comforting hand on Jack's shoulder.


	4. Team Redhead Is A Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing better than being back on track! I know these chapters have been kinda slow-going so far, but the story picks up pace in a big way next week, so get ready!
> 
> I think I've pretty much lost my beta reader, as I sent my chapter last week and I don't think it was ever checked. So I apologize for any mistakes since I'm my own editor for now. If you're interested in the task, please let me know on my [Tumblr.](https://casography.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IOEqWKsKURAgpsEnKpjkV?si=js4VXtH9SPKWv_RXxDMdew)  
> I always imagined "Freaks" by The Hawk In Paris playing in the background during the bar scene.

It took Amy a full hour to fall asleep once they were back on the road, even using the Doctor's shoulder as a pillow. She couldn't picture anything but terrified adolescent eyes, couldn't reconcile them with the fear of a millennia-old being. The two didn't fit yet there they were, grotesquely pressed together, like the identical ends of two magnets being forced to meet. She couldn't help but wonder how scared the boy Dumah possessed was and whether or not he would ever be free again. She also wondered how Michael could cause all-powerful supernatural beings to run scared while, at the exact same time, an army of humans and hunters was rising up against him. But she finally dozed off, escaping from her own mind for a little while.

"Cas," the Doctor said quietly, "should she be this tired?"

"Resurrection can be just as draining for the resurrected as it is for the one who performed it," Castiel explained from the front seat. "Plus nobody here who needs sleep has had a good night's rest in days." He glanced over at Sam accusingly, who ignored it.

"I'm fine, though," Jack piped up, betrayed by a yawn not a second later.

Cas smiled, looking in the rearview mirror at the young man. "Please get some rest," he said.

Jack sighed, leaning back on the headrest. "Fine. But can you wake me when we get close to a McDonald's? I want a cheeseburger."

"You got it, bud," Sam assured him.

It was a few more hours before Sam decided he couldn't drive any longer, to Cas's relief. They stopped at a motel on the outskirts of Columbia, Missouri and checked in for the night, though Rowena elected to stay in the truck.

"I've never seen a building scream of 'bedbugs' so loudly before," she said in disgust.

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Just because it's not two-hundred dollars a night doesn't mean it has bedbugs, Snooty Pants."

"'Snooty Pants'," the witch repeated with a guffaw. "I'll remember that tomorrow when you're endlessly scratching your head."

"Suit yourself," Charlie said unaffected.

Sam, Cas, and Jack took one room while the Doctor, Amy, and Charlie took the other. Castiel caught the Doctor before he went into his room; he was nervous about what he needed to say but felt it was important.

"I feel like I should tell you this in the spirit of full disclosure," he began, "but something happened between me and Amy on our way back to the bunker."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Okay...um, I'm sure it's nothing I need to know about—"

"She accosted me with sexual intent," he continued anyway.

"Ooh, been there," the Doctor said sympathetically.

"She was almost naked," Cas finished. That made the Doctor stop short, so he carried on. "I made it clear that we were on a schedule and she's already apologized."

A pause. "So why are you telling me this?" the Doctor asked. Why did it feel so warm all of a sudden, even for June?

"I thought, considering your past with her, you should be made aware," Castiel explained, earning him a befuddled look from his friend. "Your previous amorous involvement."

The Doctor laughed nervously at first, then in amusement. "Amy and I were never..." He cleared his throat. "We never...did that."

Now Cas was a little confused. "I just assumed...You wanted her back so badly, I assumed you were in love with her."

The Doctor was finding it difficult to form a coherent sentence in his head. "I love her as a—as a friend. I—it's of no consequ—it's between you and—do you want me to talk to her?"

"No, it's fine. Everything's fine between us," Cas said cautiously. He'd never seen his friend flustered like this and couldn't imagine why he was, but he was obviously in shaky territory. "I'm sorry, just...pretend this conversation never happened."

"Okay, good night," the Doctor said quickly. As Cas walked away hurriedly the Time Lord tried to pinpoint exactly what emotion he was feeling. He could only equate it to what he'd felt hearing Amy's words after she'd been kidnapped by the Silence only to find out they weren't for him—oh.

It was jealousy.

"Wonderful," the Doctor muttered sarcastically, turning to slide the key card into its slot. Meanwhile, Amy had just had a similar conversation with Charlie.

"What?" the woman asked as Amy laughed her head off. "Am I wrong?"

"Sort of," Amy admitted, turning down the covers on her bed. "I mean he's never seemed interested in that kind of thing, at least not with humans."

"Well, that's racist," Charlie joked, taking off her jacket. Amy smiled, shaking her head.

"No, I ruined any chance I had very early on," she confessed.

"Ooh, how?" Charlie asked, intrigued.

"It's a long story," Amy said as she took off her shoes and laid down on the bed. "Maybe I'll tell you one day when I'm not so tired."

"That's fair," Charlie relented, pulling a book out of her duffle bag and opening it to the bookmark. "But he seems interested and that's all I'll say about it."

Amy simply rolled her eyes, taking in the interesting art deco pieces on the walls as she laid there. She knew the Doctor; what was coming across as attraction to everyone else was most likely just overprotective tendencies mixed with guilt. He always felt guilty for something that wasn't his fault, at least when it came to her. She heard the door open and turned her back to it, wanting him to think she was already asleep.

"You alright, boss?" Charlie asked the Doctor. "You look a little freaked out."

He just laughed it off, crossing the room and gently sitting on the empty side of Amy's bed. "No, I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, Charlie."

"Okay," she said, unconvinced, going back to her book.

The next morning they all packed up to finish the journey back to the bunker. Charlie climbed in the truck, wishing Rowena a good morning.

"Well, well, well," she said proudly, and Charlie realized she was scratching the back of her head.

"Oh, shut up," Charlie retorted tiredly, stopping immediately to the witch's amusement. "No bedbugs. You were right about one thing though."

"Oh, what's that?" Rowena inquired.

"There's something seriously weird going on between Amy and the Doctor," she said as she backed out of her parking spot.

" _See?_  Och, I knew it," Rowena said victoriously. "Maybe he just missed her, but he hasn't left her side in two days."

Charlie nodded vigorously in agreement. "Last night I woke up once and I swear he was whispering or singing to her, and she was asleep. I'm pretty sure it was in another language, too."

"That's _very_ strange," Rowena said, aghast. "Maybe it's some sort of alien thing."

Charlie wrinkled her nose, smiling. "What if that's how they mate?"

" _God,_  Charlie," Rowena exclaimed dramatically, the pair of them laughing. There was a moment of silence as they left the parking lot behind the Impala. "Maybe we should help them along," Rowena said slyly.

"How?" Charlie asked, and she looked over to see Rowena raising her eyebrows at her. Her face fell as she realized what her friend was suggesting. "Oh, no, that's not a good idea."

"I think it's the best idea I've had in a while," Rowena replied confidently.

"No, no, no," Charlie insisted. "You said the faster this grows, the sooner Sam finds out and he's gonna be pissed. You know that."

"And I also said he'll be grateful to have a coven on his side when things with Michael are at their worst," Rowena added.

But Charlie wasn't convinced. "How would being part of a coven help Amy with the Doctor?"

"Magic gives people a great deal of confidence when they're able to learn it, able to wield it," Rowena explained, speaking from experience. "It makes them feel that they have more control over their lives...and something tells me poor Amelia might not feel very in control right now."

"What do you mean?"

"At least one of them is lying to the other," Rowena confessed, piquing Charlie’s curiosity. "I don't know what about, but lying or being lied to tends to make you feel somewhat...helpless sometimes. There's also the fact that she didn't ask to be alive again, although she may seem happy about it. It still wasn't her decision."

Charlie's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know. I think we should consider this for a little while before we invite her in. We don't really know all that much about her."

"Speak for yourself," Rowena said. "I know everything I need to."

"How?" Charlie asked. "From one conversation?"

"Oh, I have my ways," Rowena said smoothly, a tone that made Charlie uneasy.

In a few hours, they were all back at the bunker, happy to be free from car travel for a while. Amy was reunited with her bedroom on the TARDIS—as well as her wardrobe—and decided to reacquaint herself with all the other rooms she'd missed for years. The Doctor watched with a smile as she ran around and deflected any of her questions about the new console room—for now. Rowena and Charlie debated and argued the point of letting Amy into their would-be coven until the younger woman had to leave the room. Jack and Sam collaborated (over cheeseburgers) to write a full account of their most recent case while Cas checked the internet for anything that might lead them to their next one. There were plenty of weird things happening out in the world as per usual, but they had to focus on anything that could specifically lead to Michael.

* * *

Days passed until they turned into a week, then weeks passed. The Doctor decided to move the TARDIS into the bunker's garage, arguing that it would be safer than he and Amy having to possibly walk outside in the dark. Sam relented quickly after that point. The rest of the soldier hunters began to go their separate ways, working their own cases and reporting in every now and then to check for any news about Michael. "They'll be back," Sam said confidently one day when the Doctor expressed concern. In the meantime, Amy read up on what had happened in the world over the past six years; it was a rude awakening. One evening, Sam heard a shriek from the kitchen. He ran in with his gun in hand only to find Amy staring up at him from a laptop, horrified.

"David Bowie?!" was all she managed to get out.

Sam lowered the gun, concern replaced with sympathy. "Yeah, that whole year sucked. You're...kind of lucky to have missed it, to be honest."

Amy simply looked back down at the computer, shaking her head in dismay. Sam walked out to see Cas and Jack quickly coming up the corridor and headed them off. "False alarm."

"What happened?" Jack asked.

Just then they heard a loud gasp. "NOT PRINCE, TOO!"

"2016 happened," Sam explained.

"Ooh," Cas grimaced.

"What was 2016?" Jack inquired as they walked back to the library.

"You don't want to know," Cas assured him.

Along with catching up on pop culture, Amy found it necessary to educate herself on some aspects of hunting, and it was anything but dull. Most nights the Doctor would find Amy fast asleep on a chair in the console room, a heavy book about monsters or weaponry draped over her lap. One night she fell asleep in the bunker's library and had to shuffle wearily back to the TARDIS, stopping short in the doorway as her mouth hung open. He'd changed the console room back to the one she remembered best. Orange light warmed her skin as she took it all in, her heart soaring.

"Ta-da!" he exclaimed when he noticed her in the doorway. She noticed he had a brand new sonic screwdriver in hand as well. "What d'you think?"

"Aw, I was getting used to it," Amy played.

His mouth dropped open, scandalized. " _Really_?"

A smile quickly grew on her face. "No, I missed it so much, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She dropped the book and ran to embrace him, both of them chuckling.

Weeks turned into a month. Sam was starting to lose hope again, wondering what all their efforts were really accomplishing. His sleep schedule became erratic once more, endlessly scouring the internet for leads. Any cases that seemed worth looking into but had nothing to do with Michael were passed on to other hunters; it became a pretty efficient system in and of itself, but it was of little consequence to Sam.

Jack continued adjusting to life without his powers, feeling somewhat useless even when they weren't on a case. He started working out in the bunker's gym, thinking that maybe he could better help if he were physically stronger. He could easily foresee a situation where Sam and Cas needed backup in a fist fight, and it wouldn't do for him to let them down again. That thought kept him going through all the muscle aches and strains, motivated him as he did his best to drink half-awful protein shakes that Sam concocted.

"Trust me, it helps," Sam said once as they stood in the kitchen. Jack timidly took a sip, trying to be appreciative of the effort Sam was making to support him.

"Helps you throw up," Charlie teased, sliding her plate into the sink.

"Ouch, _why_?" Sam called after her, pretending to be hurt. "We've done nothing but love you." They heard her laughing down the hall at that.

"The chocolate's kinda good though," Jack pointed out.

"That's not chocolate, bud," Sam corrected, and Jack instinctively spat in the sink.

Castiel and the Doctor became accustomed to "having a cuppa together," as the latter called it, once a week. Neither of them ever drank the tea, though Amy and Charlie stole it once; they just fixed it for the aroma. No hunting, no saving the universe at the moment—simply two friends with eons’ worth of stories to tell doing just that. The Doctor eventually recounted his adventure with Amy and Rory in Mercy, which alerted Cas to the troubling fact that Amy didn't know how to handle a gun. Since it was any good hunter's go-to weapon, he saw to it that this was rectified.

"Okay, it's now loaded," Cas began, holding the pistol out handle-first as they started their first lesson in the indoor shooting range. "Do you know how to hold it?"

"Um, maybe?" Amy said with a shrug, taking the gun and pointing it at the target with one hand. She awkwardly tried to incorporate her other hand but wasn't quite getting it.

"Here," Cas said, stepping up behind her and manually placing her hands in the correct position. "First, lock your elbows, but not too rigidly. There's usually some recoil with this type of gun." She nodded in understanding, hoping he didn't notice her partially suppressed smile. He started talking about trigger discipline and she nodded along, but she was more focused on their closeness and the warmth of his voice. "Do you want to give it a try?" he asked, noting the pleasant scent of her shampoo. Coconut.

"Sure," she answered as he stepped back, lifting the gun to the target. Taking a deep breath, she fired—and hit the middle. Oops.

She fired again. Middle. _Damn it._   _You're not supposed to know what you're doing._  Cas glanced at her, brows furrowed.

Anxiety started clawing at her throat. She let her elbows go a little slack, discounted her breathing, and fired a third time. She hit the outside ring of the target.

"Oh, damn," she groaned, internally relieved. "Guess it was just beginner's luck."

But Cas had already figured it out. "Yes, that happens sometimes," he said calmly. He watched fake bad shot after fake bad shot, curious. She obviously knew how to shoot; why was she trying to hide it?

By the end of the second month, everyone was starting to feel stir-crazy. How long could Michael possibly go without making any waves? As far as they knew, his plan was still to bring about the Apocalypse in their universe and that couldn't possibly be done quietly. One morning, Rowena came into the kitchen while everyone was at the breakfast table and draped herself over a chair, sighing dramatically. Nobody said anything. She sighed again a few seconds later, a little louder.

"What's wrong, Rowena?" the Doctor asked in monotone, not even looking up from his book.

"I've _got_ to get out of here for a while," she said mournfully, leaning on the table. "It's been weeks since anyone left here for more than a supply run or a case."

"It's risky," Sam reminded her. "No one's stopping you, but Michael could be anywhere and he has us at a disadvantage—"

"Because Dean knows where the bunker is so Michael does, too. Yes, Samuel, you say that almost twice a week," Rowena interrupted.

"Because it's important information," he muttered, offended.

"I'm just so bored," she whined, letting her head thunk gently on the table. Both Amy and Jack tried not to laugh through mouths full of toast.

"Well, we're sorry this is so tedious for you, Rowena," Castiel said sarcastically, upset. He stood from the table. "But some of us are willing to wait here for years until Dean is found if that's what it takes." He left the room, feeling just as frustrated with the situation as everyone else did. There was silence at the table from then on, until most had finished breakfast and there was only "The Redheaded Bunch" left.

"I still don't like that name, dear," Rowena reminded Charlie, wrinkling her nose.

"Why not?" Charlie inquired in exasperation.

"It's just too many syllables and frankly, not very creative," Rowena explained, making the other woman roll her eyes. "So what do you think, Amy?"

"About what?" Amy asked as she pushed her plate away.

"Well, Charlie and I have already talked about it," she began, leaning in slightly, "and we thought we might sneak out for a wee bit tonight."

Amy raised her eyebrows in interest. "I'm listening."

"There's a bar only about ten miles from here," Charlie elaborated. "It's not very classy or anything, but tonight is 'Ladies' Night' according to their website."

"Which means free drinks and possibly desperate men," Rowena said excitedly.

"And women!" Charlie added, making Amy laugh. Still, she was hesitant.

"Now, I don't mind danger, but don't you think Sam has a point?" she asked.

"Please," Rowena said dismissively. "You'll be with an ex-soldier-turned-hunter and an all-powerful witch. We'll be fine." Charlie nodded in agreement which struck Amy; the two rarely seemed to agree on much.

Amy shrugged. "When you put it that way, I'm in."

* * *

It wasn't all that easy sneaking out of the bunker, but it wasn't as difficult as the women thought it'd be either. Sam and Castiel eventually went to their bedrooms, and Amy assumed the Doctor was on the TARDIS since she'd seen him there earlier in the evening. He asked her why she changed outfits when really she only changed into a mini-skirt. "I was feeling warm," she said carefully. Apparently, she was still out of practice when it came to fibbing to him, but he seemed to believe her.

Now they were in the bunker's garage, practically tiptoeing to Charlie's truck. As she and Amy got in and shut the doors, Amy saw Rowena walk over to the large sliding doors that covered the exit. The witch held up her hands and incanted, " _Tacet aperta._ " As she moved her hands apart from one another, the doors opened in complete silence. Amy watched in awe as Rowena finished and stepped back, pleased with her work as usual. Charlie picked her up at the door, and the three rode off into the night. An hour later and all three of them were on their second drink, giggling at each other's stories.

"No, you're just messing with us now," Charlie accused, shaking her head. "There's no way you accidentally married King Henry VIII."

"Hand to God, I did!" Amy defended as she actually raised her hand. "I wasn't paying enough bloody attention and it just...happened. Damn Rory and his phone charger."

"What'd you do next?" Rowena asked with bated breath.

"We got out of there, quick as rabbits," Amy half-slurred as if it were obvious. "I didn't want to end up like his other wives."

"Well I'll drink to that," Rowena said uproariously. "Slàinte!"

"Slàinte!" Amy and Charlie both howled enthusiastically.

"I can't wait for my alcohol tolerance to come back," she said, already feeling the effects of the most recent shot seconds later. "I already feel half-blitzed, this is sad. My ancestors would most certainly not be proud. Oh look, I'm empty. Oi!"

"You'll get there dear," Rowena assured her. "You were dead for nearly thirty years so it's going to take some time."

"And I missed. So. Much," Amy added, punctuating every word with a slap to the table. "Except I kind of didn't because I was a baby when I died. Isn't that funny?!"

"I'll drink to that," Charlie piped up. "I don't know why, just an excuse to drink." Amy laughed so that she almost tipped out of her seat.

"So what else have you done? Maybe something amazing you couldn't exactly explain?" Rowena inquired, seeming suspiciously sober all of a sudden. Charlie gave her a disapproving look but she ignored it.

Amy tapped her chin as someone poured her another shot, using those few seconds to think. "Well, I did bring the Doctor back from non-existence."

There was silence while Amy downed her drink, as Rowena and Charlie glanced at each other. "Um...huh?" the latter inquired, dumbfounded.

"It's a long story," Amy began, leaning forward. "So I grew up with this crack in time and space in my wall that turned out to be an interdimensional gate, yeah? That's how the Doctor and I first met and he came to fix it. Then he had to leave and the TARDIS mucked up and he came back 12 years later—"

"Wait wait wait, go back to ‘crack in time and space in your wall’," Charlie interrupted. "First question...what the _fuck?_ " Amy laughed, as that was her own general mental consensus whenever she thought about that part of her life.

"I only ever had a goat in my room. Sometimes," Rowena said sadly. Amy and Charlie worked to keep from cracking up as Rowena changed back to her more uplifted tone. "So basically, you've brought a Time Lord back into existence before."

"Mm-hm," Amy confirmed.

"A powerful, centuries-old extraterrestrial being from one of the oldest and most complex races of the galaxy, and you brought him back with just a thought," Rowena clarified.

"Yup," Amy said after downing her last drink, partially suppressing a belch.

"Sounds fake but okay," Charlie chimed in, laughing at her own joke.

"No, I swear!" Amy almost shouted. "You can ask him yourself."

"I believe you," Rowena assured her, then cleared her throat quite emphatically. "Would you like to join a coven?"

"Rowena," Charlie said warningly.

"We have waited two months, and this girl obviously has potential," Rowena pointed out. "Bringing someone back from nothing takes a strong force of will, something every good witch needs. Right, Charlie?"

Amy's eyes widened as she stared at the woman."Wait—you, too?"

"I'm a novice," Charlie admitted, rubbing the back of her neck.

"But she's learning at the speed of light," Rowena praised. "Once you join us and we can find a fourth—maybe one of the other girls from Apocalypse world—we'll have a coven that can be of great service in the fight against Michael."

"Me, a witch?" Somewhat swaying in her seat, Amy truly thought about it. "So I'd be able to do spells and potions and wands and—"

"We don't really do wands, dear," Rowena confessed.

“Yeah, I was personally disappointed by that,” Charlie cut in. “I was looking forward to ‘Harry Potter’ and what I got was ‘Star Wars.’” Charlie snorted at her own joke again before jabbing a thumb towards Rowena. “She’s my Yoda.”

“Charlie, if that was a short joke..” Rowena warned, letting the sentence trail off to look back to Amy.

"Still, that sounds amazing! Count me in!" Amy exclaimed, all but slamming her fist on the table.

"Are you sure, Amy?" Charlie asked. "It's a big step and an even bigger responsibility—"

"She said yes, okay?" Rowena interrupted, annoyed. "Although, be a dear and don't bring it up around Sam just yet."

"Ma'am," the bartender announced himself, tapping Amy on the shoulder. She turned around to see yet another drink in her face, one she hadn't ordered. "The gentleman over at the bar wanted me to give you this." Amy looked over to see a handsome young man, maybe mid-twenties, staring at her from across the room. Dark hair. Light eyes. Oh, he'd do just fine.

As the bartender walked away, the other two women observed him as well. "Oh, that a nice one," Rowena commented. "Look at those arms." Amy downed the drink, keeping eye contact with the stranger. "Wow, that was quick."

Biting her lip, Amy turned back to the others as she stood from her seat. "As witchcraft calls for the forces of nature, so does my body."

Charlie busted out laughing. "What does that even mean?"

"I'm gonna go take care of that," Amy said confidently. They whooped and hollered after her, egging her on as she and the man disappeared around the corner towards the toilets.

"And here's the bill so far, ladies," the bartender said, laying down a creased piece of paper.

"What?" Charlie read it as Rowena looked on in confusion. "Oh. The shots weren't free."

Rowena began to chuckle as she took the receipt and crinkled it up in her fist. "Oops. We can just start a running tab," she stated, finishing off her margarita in one swig. "Who knows how much longer we'll be stuck in Lebanon."

* * *

"We found something!"

Sam rushed around to every room he knew had a person still sleeping and shouted, like a kid on Christmas morning. He made it to Charlie and Rowena's room but merely shrugged when he found it empty, figuring they might be in the kitchen.

"Jack, get up, we've got a lead!"

"Mmm, another half hour," Jack grumbled, burying his face in his pillow.

" _Jack,_  a lead," he emphasized, flipping the lights in the room on and off repeatedly. "A lead on Michael and _Dean_. Get up!" When Jack finally woke up enough to comprehend Sam's words, he jumped up quickly and ran to the library. He joined Sam and Cas at the table and saw from the clock on the laptop that it was 5 AM.

"Why can't these leads ever come in at a reasonable hour?" Jack asked sleepily.

"Where's Doc?" Sam inquired, looking around. "He's the one who found this lead—oh!" He jumped up and started to leave the room. "I forgot to check the kitchen for Charlie and Rowena."

"He's not usually like this," Jack observed.

"He started in on the coffee three hours ago," Cas explained.

Just then, the Doctor ran into the room with a slight air of panic. "Has anyone seen Amy this morning?" Jack and Cas shook their heads.

"Have you checked Charlie and Rowena's room?" Cas suggested.

"No one's in there," the Time Lord said.

"No one's in the kitchen either," Sam said with concern as he ran back in.

"What?"

"Have you checked the gym? The shooting range?"

"Yes, everywhere! I had the TARDIS check, she's nowhere on board."

"There's the garage."

"Why would anyone be in there?"

"I don't know, I'm trying to help."

"Well, where the hell are they?!" Sam almost yelled, starting to feel the panic as well.

"Oh, no—Amy!" the Doctor turned around, yelling down the halls for her.

"I'm getting Bobby," Cas said.

"He's not here," Sam reminded him, "he's still investigating that werewolf-vampire double suicide."

"Well then I'm still going to call," Cas insisted, looking up the number on his cell phone.

There were a few moments of silence, except for the faint sound of the Doctor calling for Amy. "You don't think anything bad happened to them, do you?" Jack asked hesitantly.

"I don't know," Sam said honestly. "I hope not."

At that moment the door at the top of the stairs scraped open loudly and all three of the missing women strode in laughing. Sam, Cas, and Jack rushed over only to see that they were completely unharmed. Although Charlie almost tripped on the steps and fell into Amy, making the trio laugh even harder. Sam's panic dissolved into anger. "What the hell, Rowena?!"

"I'm sorry, hmm?" the witch said, finding it hard to stop chortling.

"Where did you take them?" he asked accusingly.

Rowena acted hurt. "I don't know why you automatically assume—"

"Because it's always you," Sam fumed, "every single time something—"

"God, Sam, you're really loud. Just—" Amy walked over to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "—chill, _shhhh_." She eventually started giggling, making the other two burst into laughter again. Sam simply looked up to the ceiling, shaking his head and keeping his temper in check.

"Are all three of you drunk?" Cas asked incredulously.

"Now what would make you say that?" Amy slurred, to Charlie and Rowena's continued amusement.

"Amy, oh, God," the Doctor exclaimed, running back in and pulling her into a hug. She quite enjoyed it, nuzzling his neck and giggling again."Where were you?"

"Nowhere you need to know about you beautiful, beautiful man," she sang as she smooshed the Doctor's cheeks together, to his confusion, but he caught a whiff of vodka as she let him go.

"Amelia, are you sloshed?" he asked in disbelief.

"Oh, no, he broke out 'Amelia.' Here it comes!" she said in a groaning voice, gesturing to empty air.

"Yes, here it comes!" he exclaimed, his worried expression turning to one of anger. "All I could picture was you dead or dying or worse."

"Well, it's a good thing you're not my keeper then, isn't it?" she asked, stumbling but staying on her feet.

"We were all worried," Cas cut in sternly. She narrowed her eyes at him, realizing he had dark hair and light eyes as well…

Now it was Sam's turn to chastise. "Wait—if you're all still drunk...God, please tell me you weren't on the road like this."

"No, of course not," Charlie assured him as if he were an idiot. "Teddy drove us back."

"Teddy? Who's Teddy?" Sam asked, teeth almost gritted.

"The guy Amy boned last night," Charlie announced unceremoniously. Everyone but she and Rowena suddenly felt awkward, laughing as Sam, Cas, and the Doctor glanced at them in quiet horror—then turned to Amy.

"Charlie, I told you to be cool about it," Amy said angrily, having no effect on her friend's cackling.

"The issue is that Sam said yesterday that we needed to stay here," the Doctor announced to dissuade any possible shaming that was about to ensue.

"Any of you could've been kidnapped by Michael's goons or worse," Sam said in a raised voice, suddenly pointing a finger at Charlie. "And before you go off on a sexism rant, we'd say exactly the same thing if any male hunters snuck out—"

"Look, would you all piss off?!" Amy shouted, suddenly feeling more cross than ever. "Except you Jack because you're being quiet and non-judgemental over there." Jack gave her a quick thumbs-up, drawing a disapproving glance from Cas. "We are full grown, powerful women and we can do whatever we damn well please! We're more than capable of taking care of ourselves. Now c'mon girls, let's go sleep this off. It's not like there's anything else going on around here."

"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible," Sam announced somewhat smugly. "We just got a lead."

Amy turned in the doorway, giving him a scoff. "What?"

"And it's in California."

" _What?!_ " six people all but shouted in unison, startling Sam.

"My God, what have we done?" Rowena said hopelessly.

An hour or so later, after retrieving Charlie's truck from the bar, everyone was on the road. Cas called Bobby anyway, and he agreed to meet them in Santa Barbara once he wrapped up his case in Tucson. Sam had explained the lead to everyone before leaving; there was a benefit gala scheduled to be held in two days at a ballroom by a socially influential family of known vampires. It was advertised to benefit a children's hospital, but someone who'd been on the finance committee let slip at a bar that the funds were really going to weaponize an army for an upcoming "holy war," as her boss had called it. It would've been written off as drunken babble by the bartender/hunter who overheard her, except that the ex-committee member was found the next morning with her throat ripped out. Sam promised that they would begin working on a plan when they stopped for the night. After his spiel, the car was quiet until—

"Oh, bloody Christ," Amy groaned quietly in the back seat after they'd hit a pothole, leaning her forehead against the cool glass window. Being in the Impala, Amy wasn't able to benefit from Rowena's hangover cure when hers set in around hour three.

"How much did you have to drink?" the Doctor asked carefully.

"Somewhere between 'None of your business' and 'I'm still pissed at you'," Amy said dangerously.

"Amy, please—"

"You don't get to judge me," she growled. "I did fine for years without you. It's just the shit luck of mine that I tie one on the night we get our first damn lead in two months. Same shit luck I had in my last life...How'd you manage to transfer that, Cas?"

The angel squinted in thought. "I don't think I did. It's not really possible—"

"It's sarcasm, moron."

Cas gulped, at a loss for a retort. "Got it."

"If it's any consolation to anyone, I'm starting to feel sore," she announced sharply to the whole car.

"Why?" Jack asked.

Eyes widening slightly, Amy regarded the kid. "Headache." It wasn't a complete lie.

"Amy, hang in there another hour," Sam encouraged her. "Then we'll all stop to eat—if you feel up to it—and Rowena can help you out."

"Will do," she breathed, closing her eyes against the abundance of sunlight filling the car.

It took a moment or two, but Sam eventually decided his next comment might do a lot of good. "I'm sorry I yelled, too. You were right. Every single one of you can take care of yourselves, and it's not my job to micromanage you or act like your dad." Without even looking over, he could tell Cas's forehead was wrinkled deeper than ever in his direction.

"Thanks, Sam," Amy said, truly and pleasantly surprised.

Just as Sam promised, they stopped an hour later at a Gas-N-Sip. Amy quite literally ran to Charlie's truck from across the parking lot. Cas pulled Sam aside before they entered the station, still confused and somewhat indignant.

"Why did you apologize to Amy?" he inquired. " _You_ were right, she shouldn't have left. Anything could've happened to her."

"Sometimes in a group this size, Cas, it's best to just keep the peace," Sam explained. "Plus I meant what I said. They can take care of themselves. You should know; you taught her how to shoot." Somehow, that didn't seem to satisfy the angel, and Sam was curious as to why. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you focused on her wellbeing specifically? Charlie was out there, too."

Cas visibly scrambled for an answer. "She's the newest to all this. Maybe she doesn't realize how dangerous it can be."

Sam nodded, a small smirk appearing on his lips. "Sure. Traveling with the Doc, she never encountered danger once, right?" He clapped Cas on the shoulder before walking into the station, chuckling silently as he realized what Cas's fixation might be about. The angel himself turned to glance at Amy, concern in his eyes as he watched her and Rowena talking. He walked in after Sam, whose questions had suddenly made him uneasy.

Meanwhile, Rowena finished up her hangover spell on Amy, who breathed a sigh of relief as her pounding headache dissolved and the queasiness in her stomach lifted.

"You're a lifesaver," Amy announced, gently rubbing her own head.

But Rowena didn't miss a beat. "So our lovely angel boy seemed more upset by our sneaking off than your Doctor did," she said coyly as she crossed her arms. "I wonder what that's about."

"Rowena, don't," Amy groaned. "You'll have to do that spell all over again just to get rid of my nausea."

"I only observe, dearie," Rowena said brightly, but her expression was anything but convinced. Amy half-collapsed dramatically, sighing deeply as she leaned against the truck next to the witch. Rowena watched her, aware that she was about to divulge some information of worth.

"We had sex—a long, long, _long_ time ago," she rushed before Rowena could gasp too deeply. "He doesn't even remember it from where his arsehole sister tampered with his memory. He didn't remember me at all, so it doesn't matter. But sometimes...I don't know. He's almost like he used to be with me." She looked up to where the gas station door was closing right behind the man in question, feeling a wave of despair wash over her.

"Why didn't you ever tell us this?" Rowena asked in a scandalized, incredulous tone.

"Because I was trying to leave it in the past, in my last life," Amy explained, pleading. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Sweetheart, yes it does," Rowena countered softly. "You're obviously still hurt by it."

Amy shrugged as if that fact was insignificant. "Okay, but the mission is the most important thing right now."

"Not at this very second," Rowena argued. "I don't see Michael charging out of the sky at us, do you?" With that question, Amy was at a loss for words. She simply looked towards the door Cas had disappeared through with a sunken expression. Rowena saw it for what it was: lovesickness. It was an all too poignant reminder of why she herself didn't dabble in love-based relationships anymore. Gently, she placed a sympathetic hand on Amy's arm. "Would you like to ride the rest of the way with Charlie and me?"

Amy looked over at her, touched. "I'd like that very much actually."

After breakfast they hit the road again, Amy deciding to go in the truck. The Doctor seemed disappointed, but she chalked it up to the fact that two months with her just didn't compare to centuries alone. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and straightened his bow tie as they said goodbye in the parking lot.

"So you're switching cars even though you're apparently not as angry with me anymore," he surmised, smiling.

"Sobering up has made me forgiving," she joked. "C'mon, it'll give you some guy time."

"But I'm not one of the guys," he insisted as she brushed off his shoulders.

"You're just like a regular bloke, we've talked about this before," she argued playfully.

"Hey Amy," Sam called from the Impala. "Maybe no stopping off for wild parties? We're kind of on a tight schedule now."

"You have my word," she promised, saluting Sam sarcastically. He shook his head with a grin as she turned her attention back to the Doctor. "See you down the road, Raggedy Man."

He blinked, giving her a soft smile. "Too right, Pond." He gave her a quick but firm kiss on the lips, so fast she didn't even comprehend it until he was walking away. Amy stood frozen for a moment, quickly contemplating the lines in their relationship he'd just destroyed—lines he himself had cemented long ago—then looked around in all directions to see if anyone had noticed. It seemed no one had.

"Ames," Charlie yelled, drawing her attention. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, walking towards the truck.

"Well get in, loser, we're going hunting," Charlie said casually, making Amy smile and shake her head in spite of her shaky confusion.

"Charlie!" Rowena exclaimed in a scolding tone. "That was rude."

"Oh, my God, watch _Mean Girls_ already," Charlie said in annoyance as Amy climbed in. "I suggested it to you a month ago."

"Why would I want to watch a movie about teenagers? I didn't even like being a teenager."

Their bickering faded for Amy, her pounding heart the only thing she could hear. She looked at the Impala as it drove off in front of them, confused but exhilarated. The Doctor had never kissed her before, not on the mouth. On the forehead? Many times. On the hand? Sure. He'd even bitten her before—not like _that_. But never, ever had he kissed her on the lips. Did he maybe miss trying to aim for her cheek?

" _Amy._ "

"Sorry, what?" she asked, shaken out of her daze.

"Space cadet, come back to Earth," Charlie sang as they stopped at a light. "Should Rowena watch _Mean Girls_?"

"Of course, it's a classic," Amy stated. "She'd love Regina."

Charlie snickered and Rowena scoffed as Amy went back to watching passing cars and buildings; she tried to clear her mind of what happened with the Doctor for the moment so as not to drive herself crazy. This resulted in her being uncharacteristically quiet for most of the ride, something the other two women picked up on but decided not to hound her about. There would be plenty of time to talk when they stopped for the night.


	5. It's My Party And I'll Die If I Want To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little setback, but unt **i** l further notice, I'll be posting a chapter every **t** wo weeks instead of every week.
> 
> Why?
> 
> I **h** ave four chapters virtually ready to go at any g **i** ven time--but I' **d** like to keep it that way. For example, befor **e** I post chapter 4, I'd like to finish chapter 8 and before I po **s** t chapter 5, I'd like to finish chapter 9, etc. The chapter I've worked on th **i** s week made me realize that I'll have to slow dow **n** my **p** osting schedule a little. Work, stress, and exhaustion have caught up with me a **l** ot recently, m **a** king it even harder to wr **i** te. But hopefully soo **n** , I'll be able to go back to a chapter a week at **s** ome po **i** nt. This way, I don't have to **g** o on **h** ia **t** us.
> 
>  
> 
> Apologies,
> 
> Lex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IOEqWKsKURAgpsEnKpjkV?si=8TWwMfndTKmjdHX2OkP3iQ)  
> Still looking for a beta reader! If you're interested, let me know [here.](https://casography.tumblr.com/)

After driving a grand total of fifteen hours with few stops, everyone was ready to be stationary for a while. They stopped at a motel in St. George, Utah for the night; Amy and Sam checked in and gathered the room keys.

"Hey, how do you afford motels so often?" Amy asked as they left the front desk. "Is there some sort of GoFundMe for hunters?"

Sam half scoffed, half laughed. "Uh, yeah, it's called credit card fraud."

Her eyes widened, uncomfortable. "Yikes. Putting that out of my mind."

"We don't steal from anyone, promise," he added, then shrugged. "At least not usually."

"You were so comforting until that last bit," she quipped, to which he chuckled.

Before settling in, Sam gathered everyone in one room to go over the game plan. "It's not exactly been confirmed that Michael will be at the gala since he hasn't been sighted in a few weeks. We do have intel that at least some of his cohorts will be. Now hunters have confirmed in the past that he works with different species of monsters, so we need to be ready for anything and anyone. There have also been reports of recent disappearances and mutilations around here, so I don't want anyone going out to party, alright?"

"Lord, let it _go,_  Samuel," Rowena said dramatically. Sam smirked before continuing.

"As for who's going in, Amy and the Doctor will be our eyes and ears. Rowena, I need you watching the perimeter, pretending to be a guest as well. Try to stay scarce since Michael will recognize you, but Amy and Doc, you shouldn't have that problem.  The rest of us and Bobby will be taking care of things on the sidelines. The ultimate point of this mission is capturing Michael and saving Dean, so staying hidden isn't mandatory. If you get a shot at taking him down, take it. But no bullets on Michael, okay? While they won't phase him, they might hurt Dean. We have other, more effective means of containing an archangel anyway." Sam paused for a moment, thinking. "I guess that's it. If I think of anything else, I'll let you all know."

From there, everyone went to their rooms or started unloading the cars. Amy told Rowena and Charlie that she was getting her bag out of the Impala, but she really walked over to the Doctor and Sam's room. She stopped in the doorway, watching as he used his sonic on a lamp to get it working again. It sparked at him and he jerked away with a "Good lord," making her stifle a laugh.

"Remember the last time we were in Utah?" she said sardonically.

He looked up quickly, smiling slightly. "I prefer not to."

"Yeah, me neither," she admitted. There was a beat of silence in which she considered turning around and letting the kiss go without explanation. "We should talk."

"About what?" Before she could answer he launched off onto another train of thought, suddenly all care and concern. "We'll be fine tomorrow, if you're worried. I won't let anything happen to you. They'll have to—"

"No, no, that's not what we need to talk about," she inserted before he could get riled, then gestured towards him emphatically. He seemed confused, so she threw her hands up. "The kiss."

"Oh, right." There it was; the bashful awkwardness she half-dreaded when things of this nature reared their pretty heads. But he knew that he started this and it was up to him to finish it. "I don't know what came over me, Pond. I'm sorry."

Amy shook her head, taking a few steps into the room. "You know you don't have to apologize, not to me."

"I simply...I heard about you and Castiel," he began, placing the sonic on the desk, "and then the man you were with last night, of course."

Her stomach dropped. "He told you."

"It was maybe the day after it happened," he explained, awkwardness gone for a moment as he relayed simple information. "He felt it was important for the health of the group or something like that."

"Makes sense," she responded with a nod.

Silence again. The Doctor swallowed shakily. "I felt...jealous. There. I was jealous, Pond. Happy?"

"No. What do you have to be jealous of?" she asked, honestly curious. He'd never shown blatant proof of wanting her romantically before.

"Nothing," he said quickly, dismissively, "it's...it's daft." He looked down self-consciously, fiddling with the sonic again. She was going to have to take that thing from him.

"No. Hey," she began, walking over to him and taking him by the shoulders so he'd look her in the eye. "No, it's not. It's _not._  If that's how you feel, then that's how you...feel."

She faltered because she saw it coming this time, his eyes dazed and heavy as they closed before his lips met hers again. She responded with enthusiasm this time, a small sound escaping her throat. He dropped the sonic and pressed himself against her fully, her hands caressing the back of his neck. They broke for air for only a moment, and all the while she placed soft lingering kisses on his lips until he went in for more, his hands in her hair and on her back. She breathed his name and he swallowed it. He gently bit her lip, making her moan. She couldn't believe he finally wanted her as much as she'd always wanted him. "Should we close the door?" she asked breathlessly against his lips. Before he could decide he pushed her away, and her confusion dissolved as Sam came around the corner.

"It's okay, I'll get all the bags—oh." He stopped short, able to gather what just happened from their heavy breathing and flushed faces. Sam backtracked in embarrassment. "Sorry, I can go somewhere else."

"No, no, we were just talking," Amy lied, regaining her senses first. "But we're done now."

"I guess that's what they call it nowadays," Sam half mumbled as Amy breezed past him, pausing to give the Doctor a quick look as she hurried out the door.

 

* * *

 

 "I still can't believe nothing else happened," Charlie said, suspicious as she sprawled out on top of the comforter of her bed. After actually getting her bag out of the Impala, Amy went to her motel room and told Charlie and Rowena everything. It was one of those things she simply had to get off her chest and maybe get a few constructive opinions on. But now it was somewhat devolving into a gossip fest, and Amy felt it had been talked to death after only an hour. 

"Let's just drop it for now," she said in a tired voice, leaning up off the dresser. "We're talking in circles, it seems."

"Suit yourself," Rowena relented. "We could talk about how abysmal this motel is, just like every motel we wind up patronizing." Charlie rolled her eyes and stood, muttering something about using the bathroom. When she closed the door to do so, Rowena turned back to Amy quickly.

"Thought that might work," the witch said quickly. "You're right; we should stop talking. Talking is nothing compared to action."

"What do you mean?" Amy asked gloomily.

"Go get him," she said, punching each word. "Hurry, I'll cover for you." She was already making shooing motions before Amy stood up.

"Why would you have to cover for me?" Amy inquired before flinching. “Ow, I think you’ve got my hair!”

"Charlie's sometimes a stickler when it comes to rules that Sam makes," Rowena said even quicker, starting to sound like a disclaimer at the end of a commercial. "Now go, go, go!"

"But Sam didn't really make a rule—"

" _Go_!" Rowena exclaimed in a hushed tone, almost laughing. 

Amy opened the door before Rowena could push her face first into it and closed it quietly behind her. Unfortunately, after that first literal shove, Amy couldn't get her feet to move. She stood there facing the door to her room until she leaned her forehead against the cool metal, confused and frustrated. How was this even going to work? Was she supposed to somehow kick Sam out and have her way with the Doctor? However tempting that was, there was no rational way to explain it to anyone. It made her wonder if Rowena was firing on all cylinders...or maybe she was just drunk again. She had seen the witch with a flask earlier—

"Amy."

She all but jumped out of her brand new skin and had her hand on her gun before she realized it was Castiel.

"Bloody hell, Cas," she breathed, a hand over her heart.

"What are you doing?" he asked, walking towards her.

She swallowed. "Going to see the Doctor, actually."

"Then why is your heart rate elevated?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Because you scared the living hell out of me," she accused roughly. "I wasn't expecting you to be out here."

"It was elevated before I startled you," he pressed calmly.

"Why _are_ you out here?" she asked, using her curiosity to change the subject.

Cas sighed. "Sam thought it necessary to keep anyone from sneaking off again." As she rolled her eyes, he hurried on. "It's nothing personal, and it's just until this mission's complete. We all need to focus because this could be a big one."

It was Amy's turn to sigh. "Understandable." They stood there for a moment, staring, until Cas looked down at the ground first. "Well, I'll just go back to my room then."

"I thought you needed to see the Doctor," Cas reminded.

"It can wait," she admitted. "Good night, Cas." She knocked on the motel door.

"Good night, Amelia." The slip surprised her, showing on her face. He used to call her that before he forgot her. "Sorry—Amy."

Her heart fell. "It's okay. You can call me Amelia." She gave him a small smile, walking in once the door opened.

Cas was left standing there, wondering if there was any meaning to that. The Doctor had expressly told him that she disliked her birth name, yet she’d just given him permission to use it. He knew he had to let it go, however; he'd seen the Doctor kiss her just hours ago in the Impala's rearview mirror, and that was easy to understand. What wasn't easy was the gnawing disappointment he'd felt ever since, and he mused over it as he leaned his back against the motel wall. It made no sense to him; he still barely knew her, as any time he came around she seemed to go quiet and leave soon after. The ersatz shooting lessons were one of the only exceptions. Although, if he were being truly honest with himself, he'd felt drawn to her ever since he first laid eyes on her in that alley in Maine. But it bothered him because it felt like a constant distraction from the most important task at hand: saving Dean.

Just then the door next to him opened and Sam stepped out. "Hey, Cas. How's it going out here?"

"No escapees yet," Cas answered dryly, leaning up off the wall.

"Right," Sam scoffed, aware that his friend was against this type of policing. "Just gotta go grab some books from the trunk." He would've walked away, but there was something concerning in Cas's expression. Sam was aware he hadn't done much in the way of checking in on his friends' emotional states lately and thought it was a good time to change that. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Too monotone to be convincing, plus he seemed half miserable.

"You don't really look it." Sam pressed. "You look upset."

"It doesn't have anything to do with the mission," Cas confessed. "I'm fine."

"We don't have to be on mission every single minute of the day, man," Sam reminded him, folding his arms as his face turned serious, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Cas relented with a sigh, realizing that Sam wasn't going anywhere until he talked to him. "It's Amy."

"What about her?" Sam asked, figuring it still had to do with her sneaking out.  _Dude, let it go already._

"I can't seem to stop thinking about her," Cas stated, concerned.

Sam exhaled with a "hmm," and showed no hint of surprise, although it wasn’t exactly the topic he’d expected. Instead, he seemed amused. "I thought this might happen."

The angel turned toward the hunter, forehead creased full force. "What do you mean?"

"Cas, admit it," Sam prodded, a hint of a smile. "You kinda have a track record with redheads."

His face fell, eyes rolling. "I suppose you're referring to April. I doubt Amy shares any similarities to a reaper." At least he hoped she didn't.

"No, no. I'm just saying you have a type," Sam clarified a bit too enthusiastically.

"Please take this seriously," Cas groaned.

Sam cleared his throat, stifled a laugh. "I'm sorry, you're right. Please continue."

"Thank you," Cas began again. "I'm supposed to know her, and sometimes...it's like a part of me does."

"But you just can't place her, thanks to Naomi," Sam supplied.

Cas nodded. "It's becoming a real problem, by no fault of Amy's of course. I feel constantly distracted when I should be focused on helping to find Dean."

"If you did know each other before," Sam began in a low voice as another hotel guest passed by, "it must've been a strong connection for you to be feeling any attachment when you don't have the memories. As for being distracted, I wouldn't sweat it, Cas. We're all working towards finding Dean together, and we know you won't flake out. If it really bothers you, maybe you should talk to her." It was a solution Cas himself had considered, but he wasn't sure where he'd even begin with that conversation. Just then the door to their room opened and Jack stepped out.

"Hey, guys. I came out to check on Cas." Once he saw their expressions, the young man knew he'd interrupted something. "What's going on?"

"Girl trouble," Sam said seriously, drawing a glare from Cas.

"Is it Amy?" Jack asked innocently, and Sam almost immediately laughed. "What? I notice things."

"Well, that's just great," Cas began with biting sarcasm. "Thank you for the talk, I should get back to guard duty."

"Have fun," Jack said playfully as Cas rolled his eyes once more.

They were back on the road early the next day and everyone felt hopeful for the first time in weeks, even Sam. It wasn't just because they had only seven hours left to their journey, but more the fact that they were finally chasing down a somewhat solid lead. While they weren't sure Michael would show up to the gala himself, they at least had a general idea of the area in which he'd be, and that was better luck than they'd had in a while. When they arrived in Santa Barbara at yet another two-star motel, morning had barely ended. Bobby arrived a couple of hours later, greeting everyone and grumbling about the traffic. They spent that day and most of the next refining the plan for the party as well as gathering supplies and disguises. For Amy and the Doctor, it felt more like getting ready for prom than preparing to go undercover.

"It's too bad we couldn't bring the TARDIS," the Doctor said wistfully. Rowena had just made it back with their wardrobe and was already fitting Amy into her dress. "I have my own tuxedo, you know."

"Yes, and the top hat and cane to match. I remember," Amy said with the equivalent of a verbal eye roll. "You showed up to my wedding in that number."

"Oi, it's a very stylish number, thank you," he retorted in a jokingly defensive tone, adjusting his cufflinks.

"It sounds like it would've drawn a bit too much attention for the purpose of this mission though, dear," Rowena pointed out, finishing up the buttons on the back of Amy's dress. She patted her lightly on the arm and Amy turned around. The Doctor looked fake-offended all over again.

"And _she's_ not going to draw a lot of attention?" he asked through a smile. "Blimey, Amelia."

"I can't do anything about 'naturally stunning'," Rowena defended, making Amy actually roll her eyes. Amy turned to the mirror again, examining how the dress highlighted her slim hips. It was a floor-length dark emerald dress with thin brown straps and a flattering neckline that curved around the tops of her breasts. God, she had missed this body.

"Where did you get these again, and why couldn't we go get them ourselves?" Amy asked, sliding a hand down her side and glancing up just in time for the Doctor's eyes to dart towards the wall.

"An old friend owed me a favor," Rowena replied as she adjusted the Doctor's bow tie, "and you know what Sam said. Amazing as it is, I agree with him this time. We can't risk anyone seeing you out and about with hunters and then seeing you at the gala. Any of Michael's men could put two and two together, and your lack of notoriety is one of the bigger things we have going for us."

"That and this dress," Amy complained. "Don't you think it's a little plain?"

"Well dear, my friend's house isn't a David's Bridal," Rowena countered, quietly appalled. "It was the best I could do."

"Sorry, you're right," the younger redhead apologized, turning to her. "I'm just nervous."

"That's alright," Rowena soothed in an understanding tone. "There's nothing to be nervous about. I'll be there. Now I left both of your shoes in the car, so I'll be back in a snap." Amy turned back to the mirror as she left, smoothing back short stray hairs that had escaped the bun on top of her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Doctor walk up behind her, placing her hands over his on her hips as he pressed his chest against her back. 

"You really do look wonderful," he murmured in her ear. He gave her a kiss on the cheek as he rubbed circles on her hips, making her heart race. Still, she'd already thought about the importance of their next step.

"I was thinking we'd wait until we get back to the bunker...to the TARDIS."

"Wait for what?"

"Sex."

He pulled back slowly. _Here it comes,_  she thought. "I didn't mean to imply anything."

"Oh no, I was just letting you know," she said, glancing back at him, "since we finally have a moment alone together."

"Oh," he said, relieved. He caught her gently by the arm, pulling her into him. "Well, I waited for centuries. I'm sure a few more days would be manageable."

"You're not doing the thing," she noticed right away. "I'm impressed."

"What thing?"

"You know," she began, linking her hands behind his neck, "the usual thing where you get all fidgety and start knocking things about whenever I bring up sex."

"Right," he said as if he'd forgotten. A smile grew on his lips as he lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. "I suppose the thought of you and me together is far too thrilling for me to be awkward now."

 She leaned into his touch, moving towards his lips as well. "Now I'm not sure if I want to wait."

"Oh, Pond," the Doctor crooned, his voice low and warm, almost a whisper against her lips. "Where are your principles?"

"Uh, excuse me." The Doctor and Amy broke apart, startled by the unexpected voice. They turned to see Jack standing in the doorway. "Sam left his phone in here—"

"Jack, my good man," the Doctor exclaimed, walking over to him and clapping him on both shoulders. "Nobody closes doors around here. I'll see where Rowena got to looking for those shoes." And he disappeared out the door, much to Amy's irritation.

"Wow, Amy, you look great," Jack complimented before he set to searching for the phone.

"Thank you, Jack. You're sweet," Amy said appreciatively, turning back to the mirror. "Hey, how's your training coming along?"

"It's going great," he said, looking around the bedside table. "With the shakes Sam makes and all the sets and reps I'm doing, I've actually gained about ten pounds of muscle. I feel like I could finally take on a small child in a fight." He grabbed the phone from under a pillow, flipping it once and catching it before noticing Amy's reflection. To say she looked uneasy was an understatement. "Amy?"

"Hmm? Sorry, yes, that's good," she said encouragingly, having completely missed the joke.

"You seem nervous," Jack stated.

"It's just been a long—I mean I've never done this sort of thing before," she said quickly, trying to cover her slip. "You know, spying."

"It's easy," he started as he placed the phone in his back pocket and sat on a bed. "Just act like you have nothing to hide. Sometimes it helps me to pretend I'm someone else when I'm face-to-face with the enemy."

"Yeah...someone else." For some reason, the phrase made her ill at ease, almost as if there was some piece of information her subconscious was working out that her conscious mind wasn't privy to just yet. A small but crucial detail gnawing at the back of her mind. "Thanks, Jack. I'll try to remember that." He gave her a nod, brushing past Rowena as he left the room.

"Okay, here they are," she announced, holding out a pair of admittedly gorgeous strappy brown heels. "Maybe they'll impress more than the dress. Where's the Doctor?"

"He went to find you," Amy said, sitting down where Jack had in order to put on her shoes.

"I didn't see him."

"Huh," Amy huffed, forehead wrinkled. "He'll turn up, he always does."

But a few hours later, only two hours before the party, the Doctor was nowhere to be found. The rest of the team searched high and low for him, their collective anxiety at an all-time high, but Amy especially growing more confused and upset with each passing hour.

"Amy, do you have any idea where he could be?" Sam asked desperately.

"No, none at all, I swear," Amy said incredulously, her frustration rising to the surface over fear. " _God,_  this is just like him sometimes. Swanning off to go look at a statue or an interesting looking plant, but he's never missed an opportunity to help save the damn world before." She threw her hands up before flopping down on the end of the bed and burying her head in them. Rowena instinctively wanted to say something about Amy creasing her dress but knew it wasn't the right time.

"Okay, ummm, we have to send someone else in," Sam said, panicked and scrambling as he paced along the floor of the motel room. "Do we have the tux?"

"No, he was wearing it," Amy answered dismissively.

"Yeah, actually," Charlie corrected, bewildered, carrying clothing in her arms. "He took it off and hung it up. I found it in our closet."

"What?" Amy's disbelief only grew as Charlie handed the full ensemble over to Sam. Why would he take off the tuxedo and hang it in a different room?

"Okay, good," Sam said with an air of relief that threw everyone for a second—until he pushed the suit towards Castiel's chest.

The angel's eyes grew more serious, absently putting a hand on the hanger. "Sam, you're joking."

"No, that's not a good idea," Amy disagreed. She and the Doctor had worked on certain banter and mannerisms to keep them inconspicuous that Cas wouldn't know about. Not to mention that things with him were simply too awkward, which could possibly affect how they work together and ultimately give them both away. Or so she told herself.

"I'm with Amy on this," Cas started. "I'm supposed to be back-up if things get out of hand."

"Well, then that's my job now," Sam said, inflexible on the subject. "Cas, she can't go in on her own. If anyone starts to approach her and gets a hint of anything suspicious, we lose control and this whole thing could go off the rails."

Cas looked over at her, noting the slight shaking of her head, before sighing and taking the tux from Sam. "Okay." He left the room, going next door to change and silently fume. Everyone else prepared to load into the cars over the next few minutes, but Sam stopped Amy with a hand on her shoulder before she could leave.

"Amy, I'm sorry," he said mournfully. "We'll have to look for Doc later."

"Yeah, fine," she nodded and shrugged, already figuring as much. "He could be anywhere by now anyway."

"He's going to be okay," he assured her.

"What if someone got to him?" Amy suggested.

A beat. "What do you mean?"

"I’ve read up on a lot of monsters and eventually got to demons—"

"Amy, I know it's going to be ridiculously hard," he reluctantly interrupted, understanding all too well where her mind was headed, "but you have to focus on what we’re about to do. You can't think about that stuff right now. You can do this, alright? When you're in there, pretend the Doctor is just back at the motel flipping through TV channels."

"Okay...okay, I'll try my best," she said half-heartedly.

"Great, that's all I can ask," he replied, trying to sound optimistic for her sake. He gave her a squeeze on the arm and something akin to a smile before turning to grab his bag and head towards the Impala, leaving her to anxiously do the opposite of what Sam had just told her to do.

"Where the bloody hell are you, Raggedy Man?"

 

* * *

 

 Dirt and litter swirled around an alley in the heart of Santa Barbara, blown back from the forms of two beings who appeared there a second before. Michael stood still only about a minute before reaching his arm out to pull back his sleeve, checking his watch. He looked up from the dial and down the alley, his lips in a tight line as his irritation grew by the second.

"Did I not tell him five?" he asked calmly.

"Yes, sir," his assistant said timidly, trying not to stutter. He knew Michael hated that.

"I detest a lack of punctuality," the archangel stated sanctimoniously. "He's wasting my time." Just then the being in question appeared around the corner, running towards them, an almost perfect copy of the Doctor.

"Sorry for the delay," he apologized in an upbeat tone as he caught his breath. "No need to panic, I'm finally here. This city is brilliant! Did you know—”

"You can stop acting like him," Michael interrupted angrily. "It's ridiculous."

Surprised but relieved, the imposter deflated somewhat. "Thank you, sir," he said gratefully, dropping the accent altogether. "I still can't believe how this idiot dresses. Nobody wears tweed anymore, and the bow tie is just too much—"

"Stop," Michael commanded sharply, holding up a hand in case this one was too dimwitted to understand words. "Let's catch up and save some time here, time that you wasted. You're here, which must mean that they're all here, and that must mean my brother's here."

"He is, indeed," the servant said concisely.

"Good. You've done well," Michael stated with a nod. "And was Sam at all suspicious of the lead you found?"

"No, sir, he didn't seem to be."

"And the girl?"

The "Doctor" scoffed, shaking his head in amusement. "She's so moony-eyed over her Raggedy Man, she never suspected a thing. And what kind of nickname is that anyway? Sometimes I just wanted to—sorry." He stopped short, recognizing the look of dwindling patience in his benefactor's eyes. "What is it?"

"Will she be there tonight, imbecile?" he said wrathfully.

"Yes, yes," he said quickly. "Well, she has a dress at least."

“Ravus, was it?” Michael asked, suddenly calmer as he confirmed his name.

“Yes. I mean, yes, sir.”

Michael raised his eyebrows, turning briefly to his assistant. "I guess I've never given shapeshifters enough credit. Better liars than I ever thought."

"Thank you, sir," the creature said, once more relieved. He knew he'd gotten lucky this time. He'd seen some of his comrades blown away by their commander for much less than being tardy. But a compliment? That was unheard of. Yet the silence that followed gave him a sense of unease. "What do you need me to do now?"

"Wait."

The shapeshifter shook his head, sure he'd misunderstood. "For what? What about the party?"

Michael's eyes lightened, a trace of a smile appearing for just a moment. "Trust me when I say it's not for you."

 

* * *

 

 Cas stood outside of the Impala as Rowena finished what was supposed to be a cloaking spell that would act to cover his grace, which was supposed to hide him from Michael if he showed. Fortunately, the group was hidden well about a mile from the gala, their vehicles parked discreetly in an empty alley. Not-so-fortunately, Cas wasn't exactly convinced by the incantation Rowena had just spoken over him.

"How do we know if it's effective before we go in there?" he asked as she closed her spell book.

"We don't," she confessed. "I'm afraid we'll have to simply hope for the best."

For such an important fact about the spell, she hadn't bothered to tell Sam about that. "Are you serious?"

"What?" Rowena asked defensively. "It's the best I can do on such short notice."

"Great, we're rooting for dumb luck now," Sam said dryly, throwing up his arms.

"You have to give me a little more credit than that, Sam," she said harshly, tired of receiving ungrateful remarks for her efforts.

"Right, sorry," he apologized with a sigh, placing an appreciative hand on her shoulder. "I just can't believe we've barely started executing this plan and we've already had to change it."

Rowena gave a side glance to the ground. "Well, if someone hadn't disappeared—"

"Rowena," Charlie cut her off.

"It's okay, let her talk," Amy said aggressively with false sweetness, her foot up on the hood of the Impala and her dress hiked up almost to her hip. Everyone looked at her only to look away again, except Rowena and Cas. "None of you know him like I do. I know something's wrong and that he could already be dead somewhere. I know that, without the TARDIS, he'd never suddenly leave us unless someone made him. So on that note—" She clicked the loaded magazine into her gun then slid it in the holster close to the inside of her thigh. "—who's ready to fucking party?" Everyone stayed silent as she looked around at them, then she finally nodded. "That's what I thought." She strode back to the trunk, already feeling ridiculous for her outburst. No one else found it absurd though; they simply felt bad for her.

"She'll be okay. I won't leave her side," Cas assured Sam, trying to sound encouraging. Sam and the others were gearing up from the back of a white van Charlie had managed to lift from a rental place, with surveillance equipment Bobby borrowed from a “friend.” (Air quotes provided by Bobby himself.) He gave Cas a small smile as he adjusted the mic on his headset.

"Thanks, Cas, seriously," he said graciously. "You're saving the whole plan."

Cas nodded in reply, but with a sullen expression. "But I think she's right about the Doctor."

Sam's expression fell. "I know." He placed the earpiece almost hesitantly in Cas's hand. They'd already lost Dean, possibly the Doctor, and now he was sending more of his family into a veritable lion's den. It felt almost irrational to continue with an altered plan, but the only thing Sam said from there was, "Good luck. We'll be right behind you."

"This is our car?" Amy asked dumbfounded as Cas stopped beside her, admiring the vehicle as well. It was a sleek black sports car with a convertible hood pushed back to reveal dark leather seats and silver trim. They would definitely fit in.

"Another friend who owes me even more than the first," Rowena said proudly, noticing their amazement.

"You have lovely friends," Amy complimented as she settled in the passenger seat. She gave the witch a small wave as Cas started the car and took off, knowing she wouldn’t be far behind.

The drive may have only been a mile, but it felt much longer to both of them. Nothing was said, as neither of them was sure what could help in a situation like this. As they stopped at a light, Cas turned on the radio and almost instantly recognized the chorus of “Ballroom Blitz.” After quickly shutting it off, he and Amy exchanged nervous glances; if that was a sign, they could’ve done without it. In her head, Amy tried to go over anything from her first eighty-plus years of life that might aid them, but she’d never been in a situation quite like this one. Sam said their plan had fundamentally changed, but Amy felt like it had been almost entirely destroyed. And they weren’t simply observing a target; they were going to try to extract him if they could. Before she could really build up her anxiety to a critical point, they arrived in front of the ballroom.  _Be someone else._ After handing the keys over to a young man who must’ve been the valet, Castiel waited until he was out of earshot to speak to Amy.

"Do you have your earpiece turned on?" he asked as a precaution, smiling at a passing guest as they started through the small courtyard.

"Of course," Amy responded nonchalantly, heart hammering in her chest. Cas sensed her tension and linked his arm with hers. She looked over and gave him an easy smile, an impressive contrast to how she really felt.

"We can do this," he assured her.

"I know," she sang as they approached security, spreading her arms for the guard to pat her down before donning her American accent. “I can’t wait to see what kind of hors d'oeuvres they have. I’ve been starving myself all day to fit in this thing.” She heard snickering over her earpiece and internally rolled her eyes; she knew it was the bit about starving herself that got them going. If there was one thing that Amy had been an expert at since her return, it was eating. Cas laughed along to the guard who checked him, half of it genuine; any other accent than Scottish on Amy’s voice was strange and amusing.

Once they were through, the guards predictably only checking Amy’s profile, they linked arms again and he leaned in close to her ear. "A thigh holster?"

She smiled to herself, pleased he’d noticed, then answered quietly in her natural voice. "Weapons concealment is the only practical reason to have a thigh gap."

Castiel huffed in amusement, trying not to think of that particular piece of anatomy and failing. "If Dean were here, he'd call you a badass." The corners of Amy’s mouth turned up again at that, though she tried to hide it as they arrived on the dance floor.

“Where should we go?” she asked while they were still on the outskirts of the crowd. “Should we stand on the wall?"

Cas shook his head once. "Too conspicuous. Plus it opens us up to being approached. It's best to keep moving.” She gathered that “moving” meant “dancing” as he pulled her into the throng of dancers, placing a hand on her waist and drawing her in. He couldn’t help but feel accomplished when her breathing quickened, her pulse betraying her cool demeanor. “Rowena?"

"I'm in the courtyard,” she answered in their ears. “I can see you through the window, and you both look _damn_ good if I do say so myself."

"Good, we're all in place," Sam announced with some relief. Maybe they had a chance of pulling this stunt off after all.

They continued like this for a little over an hour, Sam asking every now and then if anyone had spotted Michael. Though he hid it well, his anxiety increased each time they answered in the negative. Rowena chanced entering the building to retrieve a cocktail from the bar, to half the group’s disapproval.

“Man, I wish I were drunk right now,” Charlie stated uneasily.

“You and me both, kid,” Bobby replied, causing Sam to roll his eyes.

Inspired, Amy eventually grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. Cas shook his head as she sipped slowly. A few minutes later, he decided to “go to the bathroom” and she waited outside the men’s room. She downed the rest of her drink, both alcohol and anxiety burning her throat, the latter disappearing for the most part once Cas walked back out to her.

Some time had passed when a slow song came on. Amy leaned against him, feeling warm and oddly peaceful from the champagne, his hands resting loosely on the small of her back. She eventually let down her bun and Cas half-buried his face in her hair to try and stay anonymous, secretly thankful that it was necessary. It was amazing how a little bubbly had gone a long way in mitigating the tension between them.

"I don't think I've told you yet, but you look amazing," he murmured into her neck.

"Thank you,” she replied, lifting her head to look at him. “Your son complimented me, too."

Cas squinted lightly, amused. "My son?"

Amy nodded. "Jack." In the van, Sam laughed quietly at Jack’s excited smile.

"Oh, he's...well,” Cas stammered, about to delve into the slight complexity of his relation to Jack and how they weren’t blood-related. But he decided that was a story for another time. Instead, he smiled and took it in stride. “He’s a good kid.”

"Wonder where he gets that from,” she replied as if seriously questioning it.

“Probably Sam,” he mumbled, making her chuckle quietly.

"Anything, Rowena?" Charlie asked.

"Nothing,” the witch admitted, “but there are so many bloody people here, visual of the ballroom is spotty at times. It would really help if I were out on the floor."

“Can’t allow it,” Sam said sternly. “You’re too recognizable.”

“Mmm, large and in charge, aren’t we Sammy Boy?” Rowena said flirtatiously. “Careful, I’ll get all tingly.” Sam simply rolled his eyes once more. 

“Would you quit drinking?” Bobby ordered curtly.

She shrugged as the snickers over her earpiece subsided. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re implying, Robert. I’ve only had the one.”

"Amy?" Sam asked, moving on.

"No sign of him yet,” Amy reported. “And before you ask again, yes, I remember what the picture looks like."

Time dragged on for the whole group after that. All had to work to stave off boredom, except for Amy and Cas. Even once the alcohol began to wear off, she felt especially good. They’d played a lot of slow songs by then and he’d started softly trailing his fingers up and down her back; _part of the act,_  she convinced herself. Almost. It felt wonderful to be close to him again; so wonderful, his question caught her off-guard.

"So when's the last time you had to do something like this?"

Amy sighed. "It hasn't been since—” Her eyes widened as she broke into a cold sweat. “Never. I've never done this before."

He laughed softly, and for a second she thought he’d bought it. That is, until he brushed his lips against her ear and whispered. "You know I can tell when you're lying."

_Fuck._

"I don't know what you're talking about." She tried to move away from him, but he held her fast. His arms didn’t move even slightly from around her waist as she pressed against his chest. “Cas—“

"Why do you keep lying to me?" he growled angrily, making her stop. Super strength she could handle, but not that tone of voice. She’d never heard it directed at her before, and it sent a prickle of dread up her spine.

"Cas," Sam began warily.

"Sam, be quiet please,” he replied sternly. “Why?"

"Is this really the time and place?" she whispered quickly.

"How do we know we can trust you?” Cas asked. “You're lying about this, about knowing how to shoot a gun. You lied to the Doctor about where you were buried. What else?"

Dead air. But only for a second.

"Lying to herself about her feelings," Rowena added cooly.

"Seriously, Rowena,” Charlie groaned.

"Everyone, shut up,” Sam hissed. “Amy?"

No one said a thing. The quiet seemed to drag on for part of an eternity. Amy stood there, completely tense. Cas could sense that she was thinking carefully, but was starting to assume she wasn’t going to answer at all. “ _Amelia_.”

"Okay, okay. I—”

"Sam, he’s _here,_ " Rowena interrupted in a hushed voice.

"Stay calm,” Cas ordered, electing not to loosen his grip on Amy for fear she’d try to look around. That would draw unwanted attention to them both.

"Where?" Sam asked over the shuffle of everyone in the van grabbing weapons and equipment, ready to storm the figurative gates when he gave the command.

"On the balcony," Rowena answered.

Cas turned Amy around so she could see the balcony and confirm it. "She's right."

Michael's eyes were scanning the area, but they landed on Amy not a second after she spoke. It was too late to look away so she held the stare, trying to keep her face unreadable. And it worked...until he gave her a knowing smirk that sent a stab of ice through her chest. A memory flared in her mind of a nature show she'd once watched with Anthony at the theater, how it had shown a gazelle surrounded by three lions. There'd been no way out for the poor creature, and the lions seemed to make sure it knew what was coming next.

Now, she felt she could sympathize with the gazelle.

Then he strolled through the balcony door, disappearing out of view. She pulled away from Cas, panicked. "He saw me."

"Amy, it's okay. He doesn't know your face," he reminded her, recognizing terror in her eyes.

"Are you sure?" she quietly inquired as guests brushed past them. "His smile just said otherwise."

Castiel's eyes widened slightly. "Sam?"

Sam sat back in the chair, perplexed. "He..he shouldn't know. It's not possible, he's never seen her." Amy felt her breath leave her at the statement as if Sam punched her in the gut. Suddenly the music and laughter were too loud and the air was too thin as she began to shake. Everything that could possibly cause her stress—The Doctor missing, Cas forgetting her, her children possibly dead, their current mission—bombarded her brain in the same second.

"Amy, Amy, calm down," Cas murmured, turning her away from the balcony, holding her closer so that others would think they were only slow dancing. But as she continued to gasp into his shoulder, he knew that wasn't going to work. They needed to leave. "Okay, come on." He took Amy's hand, pulling her through a sea of swirling faces and through a door to a maintenance hallway, leaving all party-goers behind.

"Cas, what's happening?" Sam asked tensely, waiting a few seconds. "Cas!"

"We're disconnecting you all for a second," Cas informed them. He took out his earpiece as well as Amy's, affording her some peace as her mind crumbled for a moment into anxiety and fear. She all but collapsed against a wall, holding herself up with her hands on her knees. "Amy, look at me," he ordered gently, leaning down to be on her level.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, shaking her head at the floor. "Just...out of practice—Forgot what it was like...I can do this, I swear."

"Yes, you can, but we're getting out of here anyway." He placed a hand on each side of her face, forcing her to make eye contact. She couldn't decide whether or not it made the panic fade or increase. All she guiltily knew was that she wanted him to kiss her, to hold her again like he had just minutes before. Even as she listened to his words, memories of their first kiss in a collapsing cathedral danced through her mind. She wished they didn’t have to be in so much danger yet again. "That's probably the next thing Sam will tell us to do, knowing him. But I just need you to hold it together until we're clear of this place. Everything's going to be okay."

She nodded, his thumb running over her cheekbone momentarily distracting her. "I'm sorry I’ve been lying...I can explain it all."

"I'm sure you had good reasons," he said evenly, though he was still bothered by it. "When we get back to the motel, we can talk. Are you ready?"

Amy nodded quickly, taking steady and even breaths. "Yeah."

His hands trailed down over her shoulders before he took her hand again, pulling her up off the wall. "Let's go." They’d only taken a few steps when the lights flickered, then went out completely. Cas and Amy stopped short, the passage almost pitch black except for a light at the other end. After a tense moment of deafening silence, he let go of her hand and took a step forward, turning only to whisper, "Stay here."

Amy was still trying to breathe evenly and didn't notice until he was a few feet ahead. "Cas, _no_ , come back," she hissed.

"I'm just checking," he replied. It was partially true; he was checking for Michael while also hopefully placing himself between Amy and any danger that was sure to meet them any second now.

Amy felt her chest was collapsing again as flashes filled her vision: scenes of flickering lights and moving statues played through the dim shadows of the hall. They weren't really there, they couldn't possibly be, but she stopped blinking nonetheless. She shook as the scraping sound of their laughter filled her memory. "Cas, _please,_ " she whimpered. She began to back up but froze when she felt the familiar pressure of a gun muzzle against her lower back. "Castiel," she said slowly, her voice deeper, shakier. He turned around, eyes widening in horror as he noticed the figure behind her. Cas only had time to be surprised before a shadow dropped out of the ceiling and sank a syringe deep in his neck. That was the last thing she saw once she started screaming, until she felt a heavy blow to her head that turned everything black.


	6. We've Got A Newhart Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! SMUT ALERT !! It's not until the very end of the chapter though. Don't worry: if you want to skip it, you won't miss a thing plot-wise. There's also a shout-out or two to _Russian Doll_ in here since I wrote most of it soon after bingeing the show. *starts a petition for Natasha Lyonne to be the Fourteenth Doctor*  
> I've officially been working on the same chapter for a month now (Chapter 8) so I only have roughly two chapters ready now instead of the desired four. D: Chapter 8 is simply a MONSTER (content-wise, not length...well, maybe both) and I hope I'm not screwing it up because it's my favorite so far, but y'all'ns have waited long enough. Just pray for me.  
> Still looking for a beta-reader! If you're interested, message me [here.](https://casography.tumblr.com)  
> [Playlist.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IOEqWKsKURAgpsEnKpjkV?si=J8L3YGs_TXqPrx4RUxtebg)  
> Also, the chapter title is a shout-out to something I've never actually watched. There was a show called _Newhart_ back in the '80s that ended astonishingly. After Bob Newhart's character was knocked out, he woke in bed (as a different character for a past show Bob had done) to realize the terrible things that had happened were all a dream.  
> What a mood.

Amy shot upright in bed, clinging to the sheets for dear life. She gasped for air but couldn't seem to get enough, and her eyes were squeezed shut so tight she was sure they'd pop. The next second, she felt hands on her arms and found enough of her voice to scream. 

"Amelia, Amy, please! It's me!" the owner of the hands pleaded. She gradually stopped screaming and tried opening her eyes as the hands moved to cup her face. Her eyes opened to see the Doctor sitting beside her, observing her in sympathetic terror. She somehow extracted her hand from the sheet, pressing it against her forehead as her breathing began to slow. "That was an awful one, love," he said softly, rubbing her back and kissing her on the head. 

She leaned against him for a moment, still recovering but confused at their dimly lit surroundings. "Where are we?"

"Home, dear," he replied, bewildered as well as he looked Amy in the eyes and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Maybe we should go see the doctor after all—"

"The Doctor, yes," Amy said hopefully, her heart rate evening out. Yet she faltered at the information her mind supplied. "You're...not the Doctor?"

"Oh dear," the not-Doctor sighed, leaning over to turn on a lamp.

A realization of who was missing startled her, turning her stomach. "Oh, God. Where's Cas?"

"Cas?" he asked as he shifted towards her. He thought for a moment or two. "Our neighbor?"

"...Neighbor?" The word didn't even taste right coming across her tongue.

"Yes: Cassidy, our next-door neighbor." He seemed truly sure that he knew what he was talking about, which made it hard to doubt him.

"Maybe?" she said with a slight shrug, looking toward the end of the bed.

"Amy, you're scaring me," he said gravely, stroking her hair. She found it comforting, but somewhat unlike him. "Your night terrors have never affected your memory before."

"Night terrors?" she repeated. "I don't have night terrors."

"You've had them since you were a child. Amy—" he said, trying to keep his voice calm and even as he took a breath, "try telling me about what happened if you feel up to it. That might help."

"What's your name?" she asked instead.

Caught off guard, he took a second to answer. "John Smith."

"Are we married?"

"Good heavens, no!" he exclaimed with a laugh.

"Thank God," she sighed quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing—um, are you okay?" She only realized it was a weird question after it was spoken. Obviously, he was.

He raised his eyebrows at her, then looked at his hands and arms as if that could prove anything. He wore a t-shirt, which was odd for some reason. She couldn't pinpoint why. "Pretty sure I am."

"Is Cas okay?" she continued.

"I'm sure _Cassidy_ is fine," he corrected pointedly.

"Can we make sure?" Weird, too. All her questions sounded weird.

"Well, it's two in the morning, love."

She looked to the clock by their bed to confirm it. "Oh, right."

He sighed with a slight smile, shaking his head. "How about some tea?"

They went downstairs through the living room to the kitchen, and part of Amy felt like she was seeing the house for the first time, yet it was quite familiar. Wiping the sleep from their eyes, John put the kettle on as Amy sat at the table and tried to piece together the horror film to which her mind had just subjected her. "What do you remember?"

"I was a spy, and so was Cas—I mean, Cassidy,” Amy began. “We were at this party, a gala, and we were caught. They put something in his neck, maybe a needle, but it was dark and then...I think I was shot or knocked out. That part's fuzzy. Oh, and I was possibly dead at some point?"

John ran a hand through his Doctor-like hair, eyebrows raised. "Blimey. No wonder you woke up in such a state. Why were you spying at a party?"

"We were trying to save the world," she replied with a scoff.

He nodded. "Ah. Well, you don't need an interpreter for that."

"What do you mean?"

He smiled, rubbing the top of her hand with his. "You miss our adventures."

Amy nodded but paused before expanding on that subject, worried she’d get it wrong as well. "Like Henry VIII, the Star Whale..." she elaborated, hoping he’d continue.

"The cubes, Churchill, the ‘Vampires’ in Venice as you insist on calling them," he chuckled. So at least those memories were real.

She gave a faint smile before speaking again, hesitantly. "...the Byzantium."

Just then the kettle’s whistle sounded through the kitchen, startling her. He sighed morosely after a moment, removing his hand and rising to retrieve the tea and mugs.

"I had a feeling the Angels had a piece in this,” he admitted as he poured. “You never look so scared unless they do."

She nodded, a shiver running through her as she remembered. "There was...almost a flash in the dream before it ended, like flickering lights and their...their laughter."

He moved the chair closer to her and sat down, gently taking both of her hands in his. "Amelia, they're gone.”

Sighing, she nodded again. "I know, I know. But I still remember."

"You survived. Never forget that,” he encouraged softly. “If you want, if you think it might help, we can take down his picture."

"Who?" she asked, forehead wrinkled.

"Rory."

Amy’s stomach turned to knots. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Amy, you're the one who insisted on it."

Shaking herself, she took a deep breath. "Okay, just...assume for the next.. _day,_  maybe, that I'm rebuilding my reality. What happened to Rory after we went back in time?"

Doctor-John regarded her with pure confusion. "'We'? He's the only one who was taken by the Weeping Angels, Amy."

She felt the world shift unevenly around her, and she was glad she’d sat down. Removing her hand from his, Amy looked around their house and suddenly couldn’t recognize a thing. Yet, her feet moved her from the kitchen to the living room in front of the mantle, where she found his photo. She ran a finger absently over the front of the frame. That was him, the man she’d divorced. ( _But you didn’t.) I did. (He went for coffee and he disappeared.) ...We had a son. (Really? What was his name?)_ What _was_ his name? 

Just then, John’s voice came from the kitchen and cut through her dissonant fog. "Please consider going to the doctor—"

"No, no,” she said crossly then changed her tone. He didn’t deserve her resentment; it was clear he had no idea what was wrong here. She set the frame back down gingerly, having no recollection of picking it up. “No doctors, no shrinks. I've already had to go through that."

Still, he pressed. "Amy, psychiatry has advanced considerably since you were younger. Doctors know to be more sensitive with their patients now."

"Do—John, it's not going to happen. Ever."

"Alright,” he relented after a moment as she sat back down at the table. “What else do you remember?"

“Remember of what?” Now he looked truly alarmed, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, the dream! Well...Cassidy was an angel. From Christianity, not the..other ones."

John stood, laughing humorlessly as he cleared his cup. "Okay then. Anything else?"

"No, it's...it's fading quite quickly now,” she admitted.

"That's good, isn't it?"

"I don't know."

 

* * *

 

Amy sat up the rest of the morning, even after "John" had gone back to bed. He'd asked her to come with him, but she felt a little time alone with her thoughts might help her sort everything out. She tried to work out every way that her current world was different from her dream. So far she knew that she hadn't gone back with the Angels and that Rory had. That meant she'd never adopted her son, a terrifying concept for some reason she couldn't put her finger on just yet. That meant she'd wound up settling down with John, but that didn't make sense either. Why was he going by his alias yet acting like he always had? Why would they settle down into a normal life like Rory had wanted? She'd never known the Doctor to want for normalcy and she knew she never had. So what the hell were they doing in the suburbs?

Around lunch, they went to the farmer's market, another apparent routine that boggled Amy's mind. There was nothing more inanely normal than that. But she merely observed as John went around to each stall and made charming small talk with each owner, inspecting goods with a remarkable amount of curiosity. Even if his name had changed, at least his personality was the same; that put her at ease in a way. She smiled as he discussed the weather with what looked to be an older kid, and the weather _was_ perfect. A beautiful cloudless day, neither too warm or too cool. They were walking to the last stall when Amy noticed a familiar face smiling back at her from the side of a telephone pole. It was a bright yellow-bordered flyer that read:

Dr. MacLeod, Psy.D., is now taking patients!

Office hours are Mon-Fri 9-5

Because Everyone Needs A Good Doctor

Amy took the flyer down and continued to stare at it. She couldn't place the woman and she didn't know any other redheads as far as she could remember, but she definitely knew her face. She heard John call for her, quickly folded up the paper and stuffed it in her jeans pocket. As they walked home, she listened with a smile while he described some of the new items the vendors had. He expertly balanced a small pile of parcels in his arms, making her wonder what they did for a living to pay for things. He'd spoken a few sentences before Amy realized she should listen.

"—and my favorite thing was this organic polish. I almost bought some, but I figured I'd just get a sample for now. You never know how the TARDIS will react to cleaning products. Learned that the hard way."

She gasped suddenly, almost unbalancing him. "The TARDIS? Where is it?"

"It's behind the house in the garden,” he explained, playing along with “rebuilding her reality.” “I know you don't like it there, but it was your daughter's idea."

That hit like a brick. "River!” she yelled, stopping suddenly. “Oh, God, where is she?"

"Love, please stay calm." John rushed back to her, seemingly unaware of the two purchases he dropped at her feet.

"Where is my _daughter?"_ Amy inquired fiercely, causing him to take a step back.

"You mean Melody?” he asked, slightly shaking his head. “She's off at school. She left two weeks ago."

"School?” Now she shook her head in denial. “But she's fully grown."

He blinked at her. "Amy, she's barely seventeen." She really had to think about that one, but it must've meant that Demon's Run and the Silence never happened and that Melody had a somewhat normal childhood. It was almost as if the most traumatizing events of her life had either altered or disappeared completely. Come to think of it, she wasn’t exactly sure what a “Demon’s Run” was.

"Right, right, okay,” Amy mumbled, bending down to pick up the packages. “I’m sorry."

"No need to apologize, Pond,” he reassured her, somehow sparing an arm to place around her shoulders. “Let's get home before dark though. Rumor has it there's someone in the neighborhood."

A few minutes later they turned down their street, and only a few houses down she saw him. Cas was digging up mulch in his front yard, chucking it into a wheelbarrow to make room for the new covering in the bags piled by the driveway. Relief flooded Amy, but from John's reactions earlier to her mentioning him she wasn't sure how to properly react now. All that truly mattered though was that he wasn't hurt, so she kept walking. At first.

"Hey, Cassidy!” John shouted, startling her. He took his arm from around her and slowed his pace. “How goes it, lad?"

Cas kept digging, only looking up once. "I'm starting a flower garden for the bees."

"Ah, yes,” John began enthusiastically. “Can't live without them. Keep up the good fight, old chap." His words seemed somewhat forced and awkward to Amy, and the way he rushed ahead reinforce that.

She looked back at Cas(sidy) who finally looked at her. She smiled and gave a small wave, but his eyes bored into hers, making her stop short. Her smile disappeared as he gave her a quick smirk and went back to his work. Swallowing hard as she walked away, she realized they must've had their hook-up all those years ago and that John knew about it. That explained quite a bit.

So she hated doing what she knew she had to do next.

They’d just finished dinner and John was doing the washing-up when Amy walked into the kitchen, resolving to stay nonchalant. "Well, I'm going next door."

He glanced at her with a raised brow. "To Cathy's? For what."

She swallowed. "To Cassidy's."

His face fell immediately and she wished it wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t as if she wanted to go; if she were being completely honest, the towel slung over his shoulder paired with his rolled-up sleeves had her feeling a certain way towards John right now. But she had to make sure Cassidy was okay—even if she couldn’t put her finger on what was supposed to be wrong with him anymore. "Okay,” John sighed quietly. “Just call me when you're about to come back. Like I said, there's—"

"Someone in the neighborhood, yeah." She glided back over to him, kissing him gently on the lips. When she pulled away, he looked slightly surprised. "I won't be long. I just have some questions to ask him. I love you."

He blinked, and the softest smile she’d ever seen him give appeared on his lips. "I love you, too."

She walked the short distance between the two houses, and it wasn't even enough time to form her questions into words she could verbalize. Still, she knocked on the door, only waiting a few seconds before Cassidy answered. When he did, he leaned against the door frame and smirked at her in a way that almost made her uneasy. She was so thankful he was okay that it barely registered.

"Well, this is unexpected,” he admitted smoothly. “You usually text first."

Amy raised her eyebrows at him, suddenly wondering where her phone was. She hadn’t seen it in days. "Oh, I guess I forgot."

"No problem,” he assured her with a shrug and a shake of his head. “Come on in. You know I’m always happy to see you.”

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay. I had the stra—" Cas pulled her into him as soon as she turned toward him, kissing her. Amy’s eyes flew open in surprise, only to slowly close as he continued, her hands winding into his hair. He gently pressed her against the wall, his hands sliding down her waist to her hips. And as he started to slowly lift her shirt, she remembered that their affair hadn't been years ago: it was happening right now. She pulled away quickly. "I uh...I didn't come here for that."

A classic Cas Eyebrow Furrow, paired with genuine concern in his eyes, was the response. "What's wrong? Are you cramping?" he asked earnestly.

"Excuse me?" she asked, unsure whether or not to be insulted.

He shook his head, recognizing the tension in her voice. "I—I just meant I could go make you some tea. I’ve heard it helps."

Her look softened, turning into a small smile. "I just want to talk."

"Okay,” he began, both relief and disappointment apparent on his features. “We could do that, too."

They sat down in his living room and she recounted what she could still remember of the dream. It took an hour to tell Cassidy what had taken about fifteen minutes to tell John that morning since most of the finer details had gone fuzzy over the course of the day. She included some of what had happened since she’d woken up as well, and he eventually got the picture. "So, to recap: we were spies, we were most likely kidnapped, I was an angel, and now you're having trouble remembering your daughter."

She nodded. "That's the long and short of it, yeah."

"And I was killed?"

"I don't think so,” she corrected, “but I don't know about me."

"You sure look fine to me,” he flirted with a smirk, earning him an eye roll. “What? Sue me for seizing an opportunity to compliment you.” There was a pause after she laughed. “What did John have to say about it?"

"He kept wanting me to go see a doctor," she stated with a disappointed sigh.

"Typical," Cassidy grumbled, shaking his head.

"You two _are_ still friends, right?"

"Yeah, for a long time,” he confirmed. “I mean, less so now. I think he's slowly figuring out what we're doing." There was no hint of guilt in that statement that she could suss out.

She took a stab in the dark with her next question, seeing as it seemed ridiculous that he’d be an angel who lived in a house. "How could you be friends if you've always been human?"

His turn to blink at her then, his slight smile fading. "I...lost my grace in the fall.”

“The what?” she asked, tilting her head.

“All the angels fell to Earth? Kind of my fault, but not really?” She shook her head, trying to comprehend. “Nothing? Maybe you hit your head." He ran his fingers over the hair behind her ear as if searching for damage.

She closed her eyes, the disappointment overwhelming as she buried her head in her hands; this conversation was only creating more questions. "Maybe."

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be okay," he assured her, sliding an arm around her back and rubbing her shoulders. Even though she was sure he was making something of a pass at her, it still felt good.

Her hands slid down her face to ball into fists under her chin. "I feel like I'm going crazy," she spoke with finality.

"No, hey, we don't use that word,” Cassidy admonished gently, placing a kiss on her temple. “That's at least one thing John and I agree on."

Words could not express how much Amy appreciated that statement. After a lifetime of being called every variation of the word, it felt nice to hear the opposite. It made her reply feel like a step in the wrong direction. "I'm thinking I might go see someone though. I found this up at the farmer's market." Hesitantly, she showed him the flyer for “Dr. MacLeod.”

"Yeah, I've heard about her,” he admitted, raising an eyebrow at the picture. “She's kind of out there according to some." There was something dismissive in his tone; not exactly dissuading, but not encouraging either.

"I think I know her,” Amy explained. “I think she was in my dream."

"Hmm. Small world," was his only reply as he sat back on the couch.

"Yeah," she said absently, suddenly feeling uneasy. “Small world.”

She didn’t stay long after their conversation ended, but not for lack of him trying. Though it was tempting, she knew staying would lead to nothing...constructive. Right now, she felt the need to focus on remembering her past correctly—whatever that meant.

"I'm back!" she sang as she came through the front door of her own home.

"Hello, dear,” John called from further into the house. She finally found him in the laundry nook, pulling garments from the dryer. “I thought you were going to call."

She gasped softly, touching a hand to her forehead. "Sorry, I completely forgot."

"It's okay,” he assured her with a smile. “The important thing is that you're safe." He turned to her and she gave him a long, lingering kiss. "What was that for?" he asked quietly, his eyelids fluttering a bit.

"For still being you,” she answered. “I think I will go see a doctor tomorrow."

She pulled back some as he hung his head. "Pond, I'm sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have tried to pressure you."

"No, it's fine,” she began, shutting the door to the dryer and picking up the basket he’d filled. “I can handle forgetting my own life, but not my child's. I need to find out what's going on in my head."

"I can go with you if you want," he offered as they walked to the living room.

She shook her head, sitting down on the couch. "I think I need to do this on my own."

After they tag-teamed putting away the laundry, they sat on the couch some more and read. She perused a newspaper while he skimmed a magazine about wood treatments; the condition of the TARDIS must’ve been truly bothering him. They relaxed in silence for a spell, and Amy had just started in on the daily crossword when he spoke again.

"So what did Cassidy have to say?"

"Oh, um,” she started, caught off-guard, “he thought my dream was weird, too."

"Nothing else?" She looked over at him but he was still looking down at the magazine, his face unreadable.

"Nope," Amy replied easily. And for less than a second, she _could_ read him as a flash of emotion appeared. Annoyance—no. Indignation. Her lips formed the words before she could stop herself. "You know, don't you?"

John looked at her then with a raised brow, but only for a second. “For about a month, yeah," he said flatly, turning a page.

Amy simply stared at his profile, curious. "Why aren't you angry?"

With a scoff, he turned to her. "Do you want me to be? I am, but I can't say anything. It would make me the definition of a hypocrite."

"How so?" she asked with a shrug.

He closed his eyes momentarily, seemingly garnering patience from deep within. "Because of the way we started, Amy."

She regarded him with confusion but he only returned to the magazine. Her memory eventually kicked in, supplying her with the answer. _A night on the TARDIS, not long after the incident with the cubes. The Doctor leaned over her to grab something off the console. A spark ignited between them. She turned towards his waiting lips. Then she was on the glass floor, trying to keep quiet as he kissed her neck and his hand traveled down between her thighs—_

"I cheated on Rory with you." Saying it out loud made her feel sick. But only for a moment before the bile turned to anger. There was no way in _hell_ that was true.

"It wasn't your fault,” he assured her almost absently as he read. “I seduced you. I can only guess that's what Cassidy has done."

" _No!_ ” she yelled, standing and tossing the newspaper towards the hearth. Startled, he watched as she protested, her rage filling the quiet room. “No, okay, I've had enough! I'm a lot of things, but I'm _not_ a cheater, okay? Something is wrong with this universe."

"Amelia—"

"No, no! Your name is the Doctor,” she continued in a moment of clarity. “We used to travel through space and time. I have a daughter and she calls herself River, not Melody. I was sent back to 1938 after the Weeping Angels got me _and_ Rory. I have a son I adopted and his name is Anthony. Our next-door neighbor's name is Cas, short for Castiel, not Cassidy, he's an angel, and I don't know what the fuck we're doing in the suburbs!" By the end, frantic tears were rolling down her cheeks. John stood, discarded the magazine, and pulled her into his arms. It took everything she had not to fall apart completely as they held each other tightly.

"Amy, I'm not angry with you,” he said softly as he pulled away, cupping her face in his hands and wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “I'm not going to be, because he was here first."

"No, _you_ have me now,” she said vehemently, pounding his chest with her fist. “You hear me?" As she stared into his dark eyes, she found something calming in them. Comforting. It made her wonder what he saw in hers. Whatever it was, he was just as entranced.

They stayed that way for a long moment before Amy leaned in, kissing him softly at first. He pressed against her lips harder, a moan escaping him as his hands roved over her shoulders, her back, and down her sides. She pushed him down onto the couch and sat straddling his lap, to which he laughed. They kissed again and his lips moved to her neck, sucking and gently biting at her soft skin as she began unbuttoning his shirt. She felt one hand underneath her shirt and leaned away to help him take it off, removing her bra as well. He pulled her back in, lips crashing together as her hand moved down to unzip his pants. He growled as her long fingers pressed and massaged his dick over his underwear, moving his lips down to one of her breasts. Amy gasped as he gently bit at her nipple. Even if she didn't remember in great detail, it was obvious they'd done this before; he knew exactly what she liked.

She stood and they both pulled her jeans and underwear down. She kicked them off behind her as he took off his shirt, never looking away from each other. He caught her before she could sit down, kissing up and down her stomach and sliding a hand between her legs. Amy straddled him again and whined as he thumbed her clit, her breath catching every time his fingers threatened to slide inside her. "I wanna fuck," she whispered against his lips.

"As you wish, Pond," he said in a low voice, fingering her. Amy’s head fell back with a loud moan as he stroked, her legs already starting to shake. She took the hand between her legs and brought it up to her mouth, sucking on his wet fingers as he watched hungrily. He pushed his pants and underwear down as she moved to position herself over him, kissing him and sucking on his bottom lip. Amy gently pushed him back against the couch again, her hands trailing down his chest as one corner of his mouth curled in a triumphant smirk. She returned the expression, biting her lower lip as she slowly sank down on him. They were both still for a moment, each taking in the sight of the other with slightly parted mouths. The Doctor began slowly grinding into her, his hands tightening on her hips. She matched his movements, realized that her first orgasm was already building.

"Doctor," she groaned, worried for a moment he'd stop to correct her. Instead, he gradually increased their speed, bringing her hips down harder and harder on his until she almost screamed. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she came and he reveled in the feeling of her spasming around him. He held her and half stood, laying her on the carpet in front of the couch. Her arms wrapped around him as he continued fucking her, sucking hard enough close to her collarbone to leave a mark.

"Harder," she breathed, another orgasm building. He sat up and roughly pulled her hips into his, making her cry out. Her hands rested over his as she spread her legs wider, each thrust more punishing than the last until she came undone again, arching off the floor and screaming his name. The Doctor leaned in again, pinning her wrists into the rug and continued at a slower, even pace. The new angle ensured that he pressed into her clit every time, and he thoroughly enjoyed the breathless sounds she made with each stroke. Amy thought he would come any moment, he was so hard. She clenched around him with each thrust, causing his breath to catch. "Oh, Amy," he moaned loudly into her ear. He pressed her wrists down harder and she fucking  _prayed_ it left marks. He built speed again until he came with a yell at the same time as her, a slight laugh escaping her throat as he filled her.

And he was  _still_ hard. He let go of her wrists, kissing both sides of her neck as she came back down and tried not to be confused. He was a Time Lord; of course the sex was bound to be different somehow. How could she have forgotten? Had it really been that long? "What now?" he murmured in her ear, trying to catch his breath.

She swallowed, her gut thrilling at what would come next. "Turn me over."


	7. Smoke A Toke, Drink A Fifth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big news: I finally finished Chapter 8 a few days ago! It'll technically be Chapter 9 here due to the prologue, but anyway, I'm honestly so relieved.
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IOEqWKsKURAgpsEnKpjkV?si=xZpB2wwzQiKEd2VPUeSdEA)

Amy stood in the kitchen the next morning wearing his shirt, mug of tea in hand, looking out the window at the TARDIS. Just like the Doctor had said, it was sitting in the middle of the garden, flowers planted all the way around and vining ivy crawling up the sides. Even the paint had started to age, faded along certain grains and peeling in spots. It was unnatural, almost vulgar to her eyes, even with the brilliant colors of the surrounding foliage. No wonder he was thinking about fixing her up. She wondered if it could still run and how in the world they explained it to any neighbors who happened to notice. _Oh, they didn't_ , she remembered. Thank God for fences.

Putting the troubling sight from her mind, she decided she could wonder or ask later. Maybe she'd even recall more herself; snippets of her life seemed to reveal themselves the more she paid attention and stopped questioning it all. She shuffled into the living room and stood at the end of the couch, smiling down at her naked Doctor sleeping peacefully. But he didn't sleep unless something was wrong. Cautiously, she pushed at his leg with her foot. Sure enough, he lifted his head as if he'd just been resting his eyes, looking over at her with a sly smile. "Morning."

"You weren't sleeping, were you?" Amy asked, taking a sip.

"I don't sleep," he reminded her as he sat up.

"So you were pretending," she clarified.

"We can go with that," the Doctor decided, eliciting a scoff from her. She walked back into the kitchen to put her empty mug in the sink and he followed, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing her on the neck. "You seem to be feeling better today."

"Gee, I wonder why," she mused in a sarcastic but flirting tone. He turned her around, cupping her chin in one hand and kissing her with determination. She could tell where he was going before he even said anything.

"Maybe we can do a little something different for breakfast if you like," he murmured suggestively, his forehead pressed against hers.

"Mmm, very tempting," she said sincerely, curling a hand around his arm, "but I have to shower. I'm gonna go see a doctor, see if they can't fix me up."

"Sure you don't want me to come with you?" he asked, adjusting his button-up on her shoulders.

"I'm sure," she replied, kissing him on the cheek, "but thank you."

"Oh, Amy,” he exclaimed in alarm quite suddenly, grabbing her forearms, “your wrists. I'm so sorry." She looked down to see thin purple bruises encircling the skin below both hands.

Pulling her arms away from him, she smiled at the discoloration. "No, I like it."

He shook his head but smirked as she turned away. "I'll never understand why you like bruising during sex."

"They're like love marks,” she remarked fondly, only realizing how ridiculous she sounded when he snorted a laugh. “Oh, please forget I said that, it was stupid."

"Well now that you've told me to, I never could," he professed sarcastically, delightedly dodging a flying tea towel a few seconds later.

An hour later she was walking down the street towards downtown. It was a beautiful cloudless day, neither too warm or too cool. She waved back to people who noticed her, having not a clue what their names were yet. She'd decided it was best to play along with everything that happened around her in order to keep up normal appearances. Smile and nod, smile and nod. All the shops were just like her house, both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Amy stopped at a crosswalk and glanced at the electric pole beside her—and her new plan all but went in the gutter.

Having strange dreams or nightmares?

Feel like you're in the wrong time or place?

Come see the Doctor!

Dr. MacLeod, Psy.D.

Office hours: Mon-Fri 9-5

She looked around, suddenly feeling that she was being watched. Quickly she crossed the street, almost running, and tried to put the unsettlingly specific flyer out of her mind. She was having to do that a lot this morning, put things out of her mind. But it only lasted a second until she turned a corner: up and down the street stretched out in front of her, she could see the blinding neon of countless flyers stapled to each light pole, all with the same smiling face and eerie message. “What the…” No one else on the sidewalks seemed to notice them, though they were obnoxiously plain as day. There were no directions on any of them as to where the office was, so Amy did the next best thing she could think of: she followed them.

She only had to walk for a few minutes before she found the building: a small, quaint place that looked more like a one-story house from the outside than a business. Yet she knew she was in the correct place if the large wooden sign close to the sidewalk screaming “DR. MacLEOD OFFICE BUILDING” was any indication. Boldly, Amy marched through the door, unaware of any dangers that may lie ahead.

"Hello," the receptionist greeted cheerily, disarmingly. Amy’s shoulder’s slumped from their proud position as her guard dropped. "Do you have an appointment?"

She raised her eyebrows at that. "No, I...I got the impression she was taking walk-ins."

"I'm sorry. It's appointment only." The woman’s saccharine smile stayed neatly in place, but Amy could see the glee in her eyes. _This woman doesn’t get to tell people “no” very often._

"Nadine, who is it?" a voice asked from the open doorway behind the desk.

"A walk-in," the receptionist called with an annoyed sigh, as if Amy wasn’t standing there.

"What's their name?" the voice inquired pointedly.

"What's your name, miss?" Nadine parroted, her voice a bit unsteady.

"Um, Amy. Amy Pond.”

"Check the list again." Whoever it was, she was definitely Scottish.

Nadine checked her black book, her eyes widening in horror. "Oh...so sorry, ma'am. You're her next appointment, actually.”

Amy shook her head. “But I didn’t—”

“You can go on in,” Nadine continued over top of her, flustered and standing awkwardly from her seat. “Sorry again."

"Do try harder next time, Nadine," her boss chided in a sing-song voice. The receptionist looked crestfallen, and her anxiety finally made sense.

"It's fine, really,” Amy reassured her quietly, drawing a small smile from her. “Thank you." She walked into the office, glancing at the pine paneling on the walls and gigantic faux potted plant in the corner before glancing at the woman who stood before her. And she froze. She was definitely in Amy’s dream. A...seamstress, maybe? Amy remembered standing in front of a mirror as the woman fitted her into a dress—then the memory was gone.

"Hello, dear. Please close the door.” Momentarily shaking her from her haze, Amy followed her directions. When the door latched, the shorter woman offered her hand, which Amy shook. “I'm Dr. Rowena MacLeod. What seems to be the problem?" Amy simply stood there, shaking her head slightly. For some reason, that drew a discontented sigh from the doctor. "I thought so. Please, sit."

Again, Amy did as she said and Rowena did the same behind her desk. "I know you," the younger woman spoke finally, but still unsure.

"Yes, you do," Rowena confirmed.

"But I don't remember why."

"That's because your brain's been jumbled by a djinn, dear, but we'll have you right as rain soon," the psychiatrist explained, upbeat.

Amy shook her head again, harder. "A what?"

"Later,” Rowena promised with a smile. “We'll explain everything when you're awake. For now, I have to—"

"Hold on,” Amy interrupted, holding up a hand. “When I'm awake? What does that even mean?"

Rowena’s smile disappeared almost instantly, replaced with determination. "Amy, you have to focus. You know all of this is wrong, you have the entire time. Usually, people settle and accept their new reality, but I'm willing to bet your definition of 'reality' is flexible at best. Possibly always has been."

"I can't...I'm having trouble understanding you," Amy confessed with a humorless laugh.

"This isn't the real world," Rowena said in a low but desperate tone. The wrinkles on Amy’s forehead only grew deeper, but those words made both her heart and stomach uneasy. "Oh sweetie, it's going to be okay. As long as I can get to you, there's still hope, but you have to wake up soon. We’re on our way to get you both."

What the woman claimed made some sort of sense, but it didn't fit Amy's reality. She shook her head once more, the cognitive dissonance she was experiencing becoming too intense. "No—look. I'm having a hard time mentally right now, and the things you're saying aren't helping. I mean, what kind of doctor are you?"

"Not as good as your Doctor," Rowena said somewhat suggestively.

Amy would’ve been pissed if she weren’t already scared. "How do you..."

"Amelia, he's not real,” Rowena implored. “None of them are real."

"Are you spying on me?” Amy asked accusingly, pointing a shaking finger. “Is that what the flyers are about?"

"Well, technically, it's a method of scrying,” the “therapist” began casually, “and let me tell you: the spellwork when a djinn is involved is just..phew! I was lucky I got you and not some poor chump in a coma." The woman was almost laughing at the thought, sending Amy over the edge.

"'Spellwork'? I have to get out of here." Amy stood to do just that, turning to leave and suddenly stopped by a tight hand on her arm. How did that tiny woman get past her desk so fast?

"Amy please, listen to me,” Rowena begged. “Focus on your memories, your  _real_ ones. Focus on the inconsistencies in the dream with your real life. Your mind is turning to jelly as we speak! You have to wake up!"

"Get off me, you mad woman!" Amy hollered, wrenching her arm free and reaching the door.

"Time is running out! For you _and_ Castiel!"

Amy stopped. She hadn’t mentioned Cas in any variation at all, or the Doctor for that matter. She turned to the woman, fear and disbelief both plain on her face. No matter how terrified she was, she couldn’t ignore the ring of truth to the woman’s words. Rowena seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Now do you get it?"

"No,” Amy answered earnestly, stepping towards her, “but you have five minutes to explain it to me."

 

* * *

 

The self-professed witch gave Amy a lot to think about on the walk home. She stated that they were friends in her reality, yet indicated they didn’t know each other all that well. The Doctor went missing right before a mission, and Castiel stood in for him. They infiltrated a gala event only to be caught in a trap. All these things were consistent with her dream. It also came to light that Cas had resurrected Amy only a few months ago, which was where Rowena lost her again. Having heard enough, Amy left after an hour, receiving little resistance from her. She was eager to get home and have the Doctor help her unravel it all and work out fact from fiction. The first face she saw when she turned onto her street, however, was Cassidy. She almost hoped he wouldn’t notice her, but there was no hiding. He called her name when he saw her, jogging to her and easily keeping up with her quick pace.

"How are things today?” he asked genuinely. “Are you feeling any better?"

She laughed grimly. "Well, I was before I went to the doctor."

"They didn't help?"

"She made it worse." Amy sped up, memories of the confusing conversation driving her homeward.

"How? Wait, slow down,” he requested with a small laugh and she slowed, but his smile disappeared when he saw her face. “Do you want to talk?"

She shook her head, starting forward again."I should go. Th—John gets worried."

"Amelia, did I do something wrong?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, turning back to him.

"It's been three days since we slept together," he pointed out dryly.

She halted again. "Um, just curious. If you had to guess an average, how often do we have sex?"

He only thought for a second or two. "Recently, it’s been almost every day."

"Bloody—” Amy exclaimed, cutting herself short when she noticed a neighbor out on their lawn across the street. “No wonder he found out so quickly."

"So he does know," Cas confirmed with some concern.

"Oh, yeah." A flash of a similar conversation from years ago suddenly filled Amy’s vision, doubling her over as a small burst of pain radiated through her temples. But this memory shone differently from the others she’d had since yesterday, less fuzzy, almost as if it were more real somehow. _He knows._ They were in the kitchen on the TARDIS. _Wow, really? Probably not the details though—_

She came back, sinking to the ground as Cassidy caught her by the arm. "Woah, Amy. Come on, you need to sit." He hauled her up, holding her by the waist and guiding her to his house.

She couldn't help but remember Rowena's most troubling advice in that moment. " _The dream will try to seduce you by any means necessary, even using images of those you care about against you._ " It would be smart to keep her distance anyway, seeing as involvement with Cassidy could possibly spell out the end for her and the Doctor. And she would not lose him again.

Except...how did she lose him the first time?

"No, I need to get home," she said shortly, her mind reeling as she pulled away from him and walked on faster. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry for...for whatever I did," she heard him call after her as she rushed to her house.

Safely behind the locked door, Amy leaned against it and took a deep breath. She dropped her purse on the table by the door and walked over to the kitchen. “Doctor?” There was very little in the way of minor ailments that a cup of tea couldn’t help. “John, are you here?” She got her answer from a bright orange post-it stuck to the fridge that read “Be back soon!” definitely in his slanted scrawl.

"Doctor, please hurry," she whispered to no one. Amy put the note down and crossed to the cupboard for a mug; maybe some tea would also help her focus on all the information with which she'd just been bombarded. Even though she hadn't believed most of what Rowena relayed, the fact that she knew so many personal details about her and the man she believed to be Castiel—details Amy herself believed to be true—could not be ignored. As she reached for the canister of tea bags, a strong twinge in the back of her neck made her gasp. She grabbed at the source of the pain, another searing jab making her cry out seconds later. Amy watched helplessly as the mug fell to the floor and shattered, her body soon falling after it. She lay on her side, her nails digging into her neck as she screamed. She gasped for air until her eyes rolled back and she began shaking uncontrollably.

When she was able to see again, her vision was blurred but started coming into focus. Her surroundings were strange yet again, and she was almost instantly aware of the excruciating pain in her shoulders. She could feel that her mouth was gagged and her arms were bound above her, rope digging and burning into her wrists. She could see the inside of what looked to be an abandoned building. Her pulse pounded in her head, and she heard his voice before she saw him.

"Oh, Amy. You've really stepped in it this time." She raised her head to see the Doctor, or John...or neither. He sauntered towards her, hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. Her mouth instinctively formed his name, the sound muffled. But it must be another dream, she thought. He had no jacket, no bow tie, but those details weren't the clenchers; her Doctor would never smile like that while she was so obviously in distress. _Shapeshifter_ , her muddled mind concluded.

"Sorry for rushing off earlier, but—" He looked around before leaning in close. "—the boss doesn't like to be kept waiting." There was a moment before he moved to press his cheek against hers, his breath sending goosebumps down the side of her neck. "However, we could continue where we left off in the motel," he muttered as she felt his hand trail up the side of her leg over the dress, making her growl in protest. She tried to smack her head into his nose, which only resulted in her world spinning again. He grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her backward, making her cry out in pain. _Everything_ hurt. The doppelganger opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"That's enough, Ravus," the unfamiliar voice barked. Amy was almost grateful as the man who must've been Ravus let go of her, stepping back as she caught a glimpse of Michael walking slowly towards her.

"Well, hello again." He came into clear view, adjusting his black gloves as he leered at Amy. Her breathing quickened, but she was already in too weakened a state to struggle through the disorientation. She tried to focus on the outline of him, but things kept getting blurry.

"Wake her more," he commanded, gesturing to someone behind her. A hand landed heavily on her neck and she gasped as her vision cleared, along with some of the pounding in her head.

"Better?" he asked. She couldn't seem to move her head for the terror clawing at her throat. He placed a hand on her cheek, smiling. "Good. You need to witness what I'm about to do.

"Bring him in," he shouted towards the door. Two men in black suits barged in not a second later, all but dragging a half-conscious Castiel between them. Amy could tell he'd already been beaten severely, a swollen split in his cheek noticeable from feet away. She whimpered in dismay and his eyes followed the sound until they met hers.

"Amy, I'm so sorry," he implored before one of the goons punched him in the side to shut him up. They threw him to his knees on the floor then left while Michael meandered toward him. She felt nothing but horror as the angel blade in his hand moved closer to Cas—until Michael pushed some of the hair back off his forehead with the tip of the weapon, chuckling slightly.

"Amy, Amy, Amelia. What to do with you," Michael began, feigning deep thought as he polished the blade. He turned back to Castiel with an amused scoff. "You really thought I wouldn't notice that you resurrected someone? Thought I wouldn't be watching even closer? You're much more naïve than your counterpart from my world was." He shook his head, walking towards her again. "I can't just let you go as is, either one of you. See, you're both flies in the ointment that is my plan. Your whole little gang is in fact, but you two were the only ones we could snag. Even Rowena somehow slithered away out of reach. But I assume it's simply a matter of time until they show up, too. Until then, I'll just have to take it all out on you." He trailed the blade down the side of her neck, the cool metal leaving a path of goosebumps.

"Michael, wait, please,” Cas implored. “Whatever you want to do to her, do to me instead."

Michael didn’t even turn to him. "Oh, I've got plans for you. Wait your turn."

"I mean it,” the battered angel said gruffly, catching his brother’s attention. “Give me her punishments as well."

Michael regarded him with confusion as Amy shook her head, making grumbling noises in dissent. Surely he hadn't just volunteered for that when he already looked like he was halfway to a bloody pulp. Michael pulled the gag down, allowing her to speak. "What was that?" he asked, sarcastically cupping a hand around his ear.

"Cas, no," she said sternly, trying to keep emotion out of her voice. He'd listen to reason first.

"I can handle it," he assured her, calm.

"Trust me, you can't," Michael interjected.

"Everything's going to be okay, Amelia." Castiel’s tone paired with the look in his eyes made her believe that was actually possible. Yet she saw so much emotion there as well that she knew “okay” for her would come at a heavy price for him. So much for reason.

"Castiel, please—" she begged, but he was already looking back at Michael.

"Dean, I know you're still in there,” Cas began as he stopped in front of him. “You can fight him, I know you can. Don't—" Michael cut him off with a right hook to his jaw, so hard that it made Amy flinch. She felt anger building in her chest as Cas swayed on the spot, trying to stay upright. There was no sense to this; why the hell didn’t he just end them already?

"Eventually, both of you will be dead,” Michael began as he turned to her once more, “but it's not much of a game if I just kill you outright. I want to break you first."

He was so close and smiling so smugly that she almost had no choice. She spat in his face. "Good luck with that." At least that took care of the smile for the moment.

Once he wiped his face, Michael punched her in the gut. Not that she hadn’t expected it, but the pain was unbelievable compared to other punches she’d taken. _Archangel, idiot._ He then grabbed her roughly by the chin, making her look him in the eye. "Oh, I can do it. Because your puny lives are _worthless_ without hope.” He then gestured over to Ravus, who’d been watching from a corner. “Put the gag back on."

The shapeshifter was more than happy to oblige, tying the rag around Amy’s mouth as she caught Castiel’s eye again. "Amy, don't look," he ordered as Michael came to stand behind him.

"Amy, do you know the best way to make flies stop bothering you?" Michael inquired, smiling again. She didn't answer, electing instead to look into Cas's eyes for what she guessed could be the very last time. He stared back, silently begging her to look away as Michael answered.

"You clip their wings."

He abruptly jerked Cas's head back by his hair and sliced into his neck, making him gasp for air. Amy screamed through the gag, knowing he was about to die right in front of her. But before she could blame herself for mouthing off, she saw that Michael was catching small tendrils of pure white light in a small glass bottle as they trailed from the gash on Cas's neck. His grace. She cried again, Ravus roughly holding her head level and forcing her to watch as streams of blood turned Cas's dirtied white shirt red. Then she felt the hand on her neck again and all of it faded away.

Castiel gasped for air until Michael closed the wound with a snap of his fingers. His head fell forward as he tried to catch his breath, bitterly aware of the heart beating in his chest once more. Michael moved to stand in front of him, leaning in only inches away. "About those punishments. Are you sure?"

Without looking up from the ground, Castiel nodded.

 

* * *

 

Amy awoke in the kitchen, in the same position as when the seizure had started, choking and coughing on thin air. She forced her breathing to slow as she took in her surroundings once more. As soon as she was able, she stood and ran out the front door of the house. She ran until she stopped at Cas's door, knocking continuously until it flew open.

"Amy, wh—" She threw her arms around him, holding on to him as tight as possible and burying her face in his neck. He held her, confused and concerned as he rubbed circles on her back while she choked out sobs. His words of comfort only reminded her that he wasn't real.

"It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

 

* * *

 

It took almost an entire day, but Sam finally tracked down the location of Michael's main local hideout. But he couldn't take full credit; it was a mix of Rowena's coercion spells, Charlie's surprising torture skills, and Jack and Bobby killing anything that refused to talk. Just hours after the gala, every monster in southern California knew a Winchester was in town. Sam only employed such drastic measures because he witnessed Amy's limp body dragged into a black van by a djinn. Even through the cover of shrubbery, Sam could see the telltale tattoos plain as day. If she'd been poisoned, he knew time was already running out.

Now Sam and Bobby were sneaking around the sides of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Santa Barbara. Almost simultaneously, they swung their blades and beheaded the two guards at the door. Both men exhaled heavily with relief.

"No matter what species they were," Bobby said in a low voice, "they ain't gettin' up any time soon." Sam suppressed an amused huff but nodded, signaling an all-clear to the bushes for the other three to join them.

"Are we just charging in?" Jack asked incredulously when they reached Sam, who merely shrugged.

"No time like the present," Charlie responded sarcastically.

"'Charge of the Light Brigade' it is, then!" Rowena exclaimed softly, punching the air.

Sam narrowed his eyes at her. "Thanks for the optimism."

"Any time, love," she said with a smirk as Sam and Bobby busted through the warehouse door.

 

* * *

 

Amy sat on the front porch step of Cas's house for what felt like hours, though she wasn't sure any more if time really existed here. Whatever the case, the sun was setting and she could feel the eyes of the house's occupant on her back. She heard the door open and close, felt the proximity of him standing behind her. She took a long drag off the single cigarette she'd so conveniently found in her jacket pocket, flicking ash and embers off the end.

"I thought you quit."

She exhaled, considering the vice resting between two of her fingers. "So did I."

"It's getting dark," Cas supplied quite obviously.

Amy extinguished the cigarette on the concrete step; it wasn’t helping anyway. "I'm not going anywhere until he comes back."

Cassidy sat a step above her, his feet next to her knees. "You and I both know that could be hours or days,” he pointed out, handing her a glass of water. “He finds something interesting and lets it consume all of his attention until he figures it out, then he moves on."

"Maybe that's all I am,” she posited, taking a sip. “Something interesting, but he can't figure me out so he keeps coming back."

She swore she felt his sigh more than heard it. "What happened?"

"I told you,” Amy replied tiredly. “He just left a note."

"No, I mean what happened to make you run over here like you did?" he clarified.

She hesitated, unsure of where to even begin with that little slice of terror. "Nothing. You wouldn't believe me. But I have to wait for him because I think he can help me get out of here."

Silence followed, in which she was sure he was trying to make sense of what she said. "Well, I'm not leaving you out here alone." A diplomatic answer, which wasn’t really Castiel’s style but was obviously Cassidy’s.

"Suit yourself," was her response. They sat there silently but not for long. "I'll never understand why he keeps me waiting so much." 

Cassidy scoffed. "I'll never understand why you put up with it."

"I love him." Somehow, it was so easy to say now.

"You used to tell me that, too,” he pointed out quietly.

She closed her eyes, rubbing them with the back of her hand. "I'm sure some facsimile of me did, but whoever she was, I'm not her." He said nothing, to her surprise, and she waited minutes to see if he would. Finally, she sighed and shook her head at herself. "I didn't mean to sound so harsh."

"It's okay. It's one of the reasons I love you."

Amy squinted in confusion, though he couldn’t see. The Castiel she knew would never say that. If that episode she’d had in her kitchen was reliable, her Cas was probably being tortured as they spoke. And if the witch was telling the truth, then her Doctor was God knew where. She had a sudden, irrepressible need to know more. Fuck waiting. "Come on." Grabbing his hand, she dragged them off the porch and down the street towards town.

"Amy, what are you doing?” he asked, scandalized. “It's almost dark."

"Is walking at dark forbidden in the suburbs?” she retorted sarcastically. “We need to go see someone."

They arrived in no time, the office suspiciously closer to her house than it had been before. She was so focused on the changed location that another strange detail barely registered: the streets and sidewalks were completely empty of people. Yet she ventured on, banging on the generic glass doors when she reached them.

"Come on, I know you're in there! It's Amy, Amy Pond, and I want out of here!"

"Amy, stop,” Cassidy hissed, grabbing her arm, “people are going to hear."

"Oh, hush,” she spat before turning back to the door. “Oi, fuck your 9 to 5! You're here for me, I know you are."

Rowena appeared close to the door then, quite possibly out of thin air. She hesitated at the sight of Amy’s escort but unlocked and opened the door anyway. "Dearie, there's no need to shout,” she said simply before gesturing behind Amy. “Why did you bring him?"

"Because I don't like being alone, but that's not important,” Amy rushed, inviting herself into the reception area. “What do I need to do to get out of here?"

"Wake up," Rowena reiterated, throwing her hands up. Great, that cleared up everything.

"I thought you said she made things worse,” Cassidy interjected defensively, stopping to stand beside Amy. 

"'Worse'? Tweetie Pie, I'm the only real thing helping her here," Rowena defended smoothly, turning her nose up at him.

He only glared back. "Amy, don't listen to her."

"Is there anything I can do to make myself wake up?” Amy asked, ignoring him.

"Well—"

"Amy, _don't_."

She turned to him, indignant at his anger. "Excuse me?"

"Amy, remember he's part of the dream,” the witch responded warily. “He can't be trusted."

"But what if he's stuck like me?" she asked.

"He's not, I can guarantee that."

Suddenly Cassidy caught Amy’s arm in a vice grip, startling her. "Don't listen to her. I'm real!" It was unconvincing, especially since his voice warped at the end and his eyes flashed blue.

For all she knew he could be someone real named Cassidy, but he was definitely not her Castiel. She had to get free of him. "I'm so sorry if you feel this, Cas." Then she punched him in the jaw as hard as she could.

 

* * *

 

Castiel's head whipped to the side from the force of another punch from Michael. In the break that followed, Cas spat the blood out of his mouth and tried to ignore the pounding in his head. His stomach turned not only at the pain but the situation they were in. He looked up helplessly at Amy's lifeless form, her eyes quivering as the dream deepened its hold on her. He'd let her down. Focused on her, he didn't see the next blow coming until he was lying on his side.

"What do you stand to gain from this?" he asked with some difficulty, trying to rise from the ground—only for Michael to push him back down.

"You still don't understand,” the archangel announced, irritated, before leaning down towards his brother. “You see, your little friend up here has given me all the answers I need. It's painfully obvious in the cases he's worked, the lives he's taken. God, our father, has thrown us all away. We're no longer important to him, no matter the universe, so he cast us aside like garbage. Well, he's going to learn that I'm not going anywhere. I'll tear all his worlds apart, and then him. Then I'll rebuild atop his ashes."

Castiel looked him in the eye, shaking his head as he sat up yet again. "He's a deadbeat. You drink a fifth and you move on. You don't destroy everything in your path like a petulant child." That earned him a strike under the chin, sending him backward a few feet. Coughing, he tried to sit up only for Michael's foot to land on his chest, pinning him down.

"Sir?" Both man and angel looked over at the interrupting shapeshifter standing beside Amy. "If you don't mind my asking, what exactly do you plan to do with her?" Michael gave him a warning look before Ravus continued. "I only mean I could take her off your hands, save you some time. It'd be a shame to waste such a beautiful creature." He let his hand drift down her cheek, her neck, a flare of panic sparking in Cas.

"Don't you dare—" His barking was cut off by Michael pressing the foot on his chest down hard, almost snapping several ribs. Michael snapped his fingers and pointed, prompting Ravus to return to his corner. Cas clenched his eyes shut, shallowly gasping through the pain, as his brother looked down in amazement.

"I can't understand why you don't even try to fight back," he mused as he let up, disappointment in his voice.

"Because I know you, even though you think I don't,” he replied shallowly, barely able to breathe now. “If I resist, you'll only take it out on her."

Michael scoffed, the  _so what_ implied in the sound. "You've grown much too attached to humans."

"Just a few," Cas agreed cooly. Michael pulled him up off the ground by the collar of his shirt, bringing them face to face.

"They'll all be gone soon,” he reminded him, tightening his hold on Cas’s collar, whose eyes fluttered as the pain in his head took over. “All you have to do is bow down and avoid the same fate. You'd even get your grace back."

"Bow to you?” he seethed, speaking through clenched teeth. “I'd rather die."

"Alright then." Michael made one final swing, connecting with Castiel's ear and disorienting him. He picked him up off the ground by the back of the neck, standing behind him and pointing the archangel blade towards his heart. Cas looked up at Amy, preparing to die and relieved that at least she wouldn't see it happen. He closed his eyes and whispered weakly.

"I'm so sorry, Dean."

That's when the door burst open behind them.


	8. Here Comes The Sad Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will do my best to keep posting chapters--even if there are unplanned two-month breaks in between some of them. Thank you for your patience.
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IOEqWKsKURAgpsEnKpjkV?si=s9R6NkdgQlmmvMiqja-pCQ)  
> Two songs that I listened to as I wrote parts of this chapter.

Michael turned slowly towards the sound of the door splintering at Sam and Bobby’s feet, as if it were just another irritating sound. The djinn and shapeshifter jumped, the latter drawing his knife. The archangel, however, smiled at the sight of their new arrivals. "Well, you're just in time." He nodded to his cronies and the djinn charged first. Jack intercepted him.

Sam called his name, panic in his voice. After a few blocked punches, the djinn took him by the throat and placed a hand on his head, knocking him out with a dose of poison. “No!” As he was about to throw the nephilim into the wall, Sam crashed into him. A brief struggle, until the silver knife pierced the djinn’s side. He lay there lifeless as Sam stood, facing Ravus.

"Doc?" Charlie spoke first.

"Most definitely not," Rowena supplied.

"I did quite a good job though, didn't I?” the monster asked, giving them a smug but unsettling smirk; unsettling only because he wore the Doctor’s face. “I gotta say, he was one of the more...complicated minds I’ve mimicked. But otherwise, it was so easy being him.” He slowly took steps towards the group as he continued to talk needlessly. “I just had to extract anything I didn’t know from him, act ridiculous 24/7, and boom: one instant alien dork. Had you all snowed."

"Not exactly,” Sam corrected. “Amy was starting to suspect."

"Apparently that wasn't enough to make her keep her hands off me," Ravus bragged, his voice trickling into an English accent.

"Ravus," Michael warned, a note of boredom in his tone.

The shapeshifter sighed dramatically. "I can't even have fun with them before I kill them?" In the moment he’d turned to Michael, Charlie and Bobby both charged him. In seconds, Ravus’s head rolled towards Michael’s feet, Charlie’s blade covered in his blood.

Michael merely sighed at the turn of events before musing, “It’s impossible to find good help." Frustrated, he sent his angel blade flying towards the group, straight towards Rowena—until Charlie jumped in front of her. It pierced straight through Charlie's arm and as she howled in pain, both Michael and his blade disappeared.

"Charlie!" Sam shouted. Blood poured from the wound once she sank to the ground, Rowena already whipping off her jacket to cover and apply pressure. Bobby removed his belt for a tourniquet while Sam ran to Amy and Jack to Cas. The pain was blinding for Charlie as Rowena kept steady pressure on the wound and Bobby finished fastening the belt around her arm.

"Hang in there, kid," Bobby said encouragingly, but she blacked out a few seconds later. "Sam!"

"Get the med kit from the Impala!" he bellowed, catching Amy once he'd cut through the ropes holding her up. "Jack, is he okay?"

"Barely," Jack responded. No matter how hard Cas tried, he couldn't seem to stand from how fast his head was spinning. Jack heard him faintly murmur something. "What?"

"Help her," Cas groaned, starting to lose consciousness.

"Sam's got Amy," Jack assured him as Sam carried Amy in his arms out to the Impala. "She's going to be fine." He only hoped that was true as Cas passed out in his arms.

They eventually got all the wounded stable and safely to the cars as Rowena tried to reach out for Amy's conscience. The first thing she heard was Amy yelling for her to come out of her office, making her smile. "I knew you wouldn't give up." Pausing the connection, she rushed over to the cars.

"Sam, I have to get back to her," she announced.

After a second, he nodded gravely. "Bring her back."

"I'll do everything I can," she promised.

 

* * *

 

 

Amy and Rowena stood stoic against the back wall of the office as Cas hammered incessantly at the door. Amy's punch had only bought them seconds, but it had been enough to get away from him. Unfortunately, with no windows in the room, that meant they were cornered.

"How long do you think it will hold?" Amy asked breathlessly.

"No idea," Rowena said, brandishing a heavy book.

"God, what do we do?" she asked rhetorically, starting to panic as the door began to splinter.

"I'm afraid I can't help you wake up," she confessed, to which Amy gave her a fearful look. "I'm sorry," she continued earnestly.

"Great, so we're both gonna die," Amy mused sarcastically.

"I'm not real either, love," Rowena reminded her. "Just a projection."

"Wonderful." More sarcasm, but then Amy switched her tone. "Actually, it is. I mean..even if I don't remember you right now, I'm glad you won't die."

"Thanks," she said, grateful yet solemn. They looked towards the door, waiting for it to break. "There is one thing I've heard works when you're under the influence of a djinn."

"Cutting it kind of close, yeah?" Amy asked caustically. "Go on, what is it? I'll do just about anything."

A beat. "You have to kill yourself."

Amy looked over to Rowena as if she'd slapped her. She may as well have. "That's not funny."

"I'm not joking," Rowena replied.

At that moment the door gave way with a loud crash, revealing an enraged Cassidy stepping over the threshold. Both women tensed, ready for battle, when a heavy blow struck the imposter from behind. He swayed for a moment before falling forward onto the door, and there stood the Doctor with a shovel in hand.

"I come in peace!" he called, noticing their fearful expressions. He dropped the shovel in order to drag Cas out of the doorway, and Amy and Rowena took hesitant steps from behind the desk.

"Where were you," Amy asked, "and where did you get a shovel?"

"From the garage," he said as if it were obvious. "Where else? You think they're giving out free ones in the town square?" He turned and pointed at her momentarily. "If that ever happens, run immediately. It's a tell-tale sign of a lynch mob, believe you me."

It occurred to her then that rants were kind of his thing, yet this was the first one she'd heard in a long time. "Doctor?" she asked hesitantly. He looked back to her and slowly stood, his eyes full of guilt. It was only when he took her in his arms that she _felt_ it: it was really him. Not John Smith, not a domestic partner, not an imposter, just her precious Raggedy Man. The back of her eyes began to sting as she hugged him. "It's really you."

"Amelia, I'm so sorry I didn't believe you before," he murmured against her hair, rubbing circles on her back. "I don't know what was wrong with me."

"Oh, dear," Rowena said mournfully. They looked over to see her observing the Doctor with sorrowful eyes. "Doctor, I'm so sorry. I was wrong."

"What is it?" Amy asked, confused. "He's on our side now."

"Of course he is. Amy..." Rowena trailed off, gesturing to the Doctor as if Amy was missing something obvious. In a way, she was. It hit her like another punch to the gut, and it hurt worse than the last one.

"You're trapped, too," she said, dumbstruck. He nodded morosely.

"I'm afraid I've been gone for quite some time," he confessed, turning her stomach. "I don't know where I am either, but that's why I disappeared from the house. Someone woke me."

"So you are real—" She glanced over at Rowena before leaning into him and whispering. "—and everything we did..."

His eyelids fluttered, somewhat flustered at the memory. "Blimey, I hadn't considered that part yet." Guilt appeared in his eyes once more but quickly dissolved when a warm, soft smile played across Amy's lips. Instead, he returned the expression, brushing a strand of copper behind her ear. "At least we're all on the same page now, eh?"

"Not exactly," Rowena cut in from across the room.

Amy regarded her with more confusion, but it didn't last long. "He has to kill himself, too?" she asked in dismay.

"I beg your pardon?" the Doctor asked, taken aback.

Before they could answer him, the three of them heard shouting from outside the office. Perplexed, Amy ran to a window in the lobby, parting the blinds with a finger. "You've got to be kidding me." Coming towards them was an angry cluster of the town's citizens, holding torches and packing shovels. The very faces that had been cheerful and welcoming the day before at the farmer's market and out on the street, were now screwed up in anger and vitriol. The Doctor and Rowena joined her at the window, taking in the scene.

"Well, what do you know? A lynch mob," he said, curious. "I feel somewhat responsible."

"Go with the feeling," Rowena said, grabbing him and Amy by the arms and pulling them away from the window. "Come on, there's a back door. We can't let anything the dream creates kill you two, else you'll die in real life."

"Why can't anything be easy?" Amy asked rhetorically.

They ran out the back door as quietly as possible, but it didn't take the mob long to figure out where they were going. It was only a few blocks to their cul-de-sac, and Rowena tried to explain the kill-yourself solution as they ran. Once the three escapees were locked inside Amy and the Doctor's house, Amy started wondering whether or not she could really go through with killing herself. There had been days, weeks in her first life when the thought was tempting. Now it was terrifying to think that she'd be going through with it. Even if it saved her, it was the act itself that made her hesitate in the living room.

"Amy, they're coming," Rowena announced from the long window next to the front door. She crossed the room to take Amy's hands in her own. "You have to hurry. You can do this." She turned to the Doctor. "I'm afraid you're on your own, but I suggest you do the same as Amy does. Just because the mob's meant for her doesn't mean it'll disappear once she's gone." She dropped Amy's hands, stepping away from them both. "It's up to you now. I have to go. Charlie needs me."

"Charlie?" Amy asked, concerned, but the witch was already gone.

The Doctor ran to the window, his gut tightening. "They're on our street." Not letting herself think, Amy ran to the kitchen and grabbed two large knives from the holder on the counter. She ran back into the living room and the Doctor walked over to her, hesitantly taking the knife she offered him. "Are we completely sure this isn't real?" he asked.

"I am," she lied. Shakily, she lifted the knife and rested the point against her stomach, right below her ribcage. The Doctor copied her. "I hope I can do this."

"It's not like it's our first brush with suicide," he reminded her with a quivering smile, his eyes shining with tears.

"Right, the van," she recalled, her laugh sounding more like a sob. There was more she wanted to say, but she knew they didn't have time and she had little composure left.

"I should go first," he decided, his voice thick with emotion.

"No!" Amy yelped, holding out a hand. "I don't want to be alone for this." She felt tears roll down her cheeks. "I've already died alone once."

The Doctor took her outstretched hand, squeezing firmly. "Of course, Pond." He stepped closer to her and she kissed him quickly but fully.

"I will find you," she promised him, placing a hand on his cheek. The Doctor took the hand and pressed the back of it gently to his lips, giving her a watery grin.

"I'll be waiting," he said shakily. She choked out a bitter laugh at the irony of that: the Doctor, waiting on her for once.

The next second they heard screaming and banging on the door; the mob had reached the house. They only had seconds. Amy let out a terrified sob as they both sank to their knees, knives at the ready. She looked into the Doctor's eyes to find he was just as scared.

"Together?" she asked over the din outside. Just beyond the Doctor's head, she could see that the door was about to give.

"Always," he managed with a nod.

With deep breaths, they sank the knives into their guts. Quickly they reached for each other, gasping for air but choking on blood. Amy whimpered as she watched their lives drain from them into deep red puddles on the floor. The Doctor slumped against her after only a moment; he succumbed first. She began to cry just as the mob broke through. Just as she breathed her last.

 

* * *

 

 

When Amy opened her eyes, all she saw was black. She turned and turned, confused at her lack of surroundings. Had she not offed herself quickly enough? Was this the afterlife? No..because she knew there was at least something in the afterlife, not just emptiness. There was absolutely nothing but the sound of her feet shuffling on the ground and her quickening breath. She stopped short when that changed.

"Congratulations. You figured it out." Amy turned towards the voice, already knew it was Michael before she saw him. Fear gripped her already sore gut, but so did a measurable amount of anger. She'd had enough of the mind games. "You're about to wake up, but I needed an audience with you first—"

"Where is he?" she asked in a dangerously low voice, fists clenched.

Michael's eyebrows raised at her insolence. "Interrupting is very rude."

"Where is he?" she repeated louder.

Michael sighed. "He's alive for now. The shapeshifter of him, not so much. He was something of a disappointment anyway."

"You are going to pay for this," she swore viciously.

"Careful," Michael warned, stepping closer to her. "You won't be so brave if I let him die."

"You would've done that by now," she countered.

"Don't be so sure," he began. "I need information on your little group of rebels. So far he's been quite resilient, but everyone has a breaking point."

"Why the djinn?" she asked suddenly.

He was surprised by the question. "Even though you're both in my way you, Amy, are...less important. Not worth the energy it would take to kill you myself." He began walking around her, like a vulture circling roadkill. "I was going to let you die slowly and somewhat painlessly, but apparently you want to go out the hard way."

"I don't like special treatment," she said evenly, turning to him. He smiled and stepped forward until he was in her face. She lifted her chin and stood her ground.

"You have no idea what you're getting into," he paused, "Agent Jane."

Amy bristled, having not heard the familiar alias in decades. She swallowed nervously, her incredulous glare fading to resolute silence, and looked away from him.

"Oh, yes," Michael began smoothly. "I know all about your sordid past after the Doctor, and I'm not the only one. I don't think he'd be too pleased."

"He'd get over it," she spat, not sure if he actually would. "And if you know all that, then you know I don't give up when the lives of people I care about are at stake." He stood in front of her, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"But I can guarantee this, Amy Pond," he said in a low, malicious tone. "You won't be able to stop me and save him at the same time." He grinned, took a few steps back as his implications settled on her like stones. "Oh, and um…watch out for statues."

Amy's eyes grew wide, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as he laughed. Just as a question mixed with an insult formed on her tongue, Michael was gone and she was falling through the abyss.

 

* * *

 

 

"Come on, Amy, come on."

"Are you sure she went through with it?"

"I hope she did. The one time we run out of djinn antidote—"

Amy awoke suddenly, inhaling large amounts of air as her lungs struggled to work again.

"Amy!" Rowena shouted in surprise. "Sam, pull over!" He did just that, swerving off towards the grass by the semi-deserted highway.

"Amy, are you okay?" Sam asked, but she was already in the process of crawling out of the car. She fell to the ground, clinging to the grass as she vomited. Jack, who'd woken up a few minutes prior, knelt by her side and held her hair back.

"It's okay," he said, rubbing up and down on her back as she wiped her mouth on her arm. "You're safe now. Sam?"

"I'm here, I'm here," he called, rushing around the side of the car and crouching down. "Amy, he's right. You're awake now—"

"It was Michael!" She turned somewhat suddenly, tears already in her eyes again as she grabbed them both by the shoulders.

"We know," Sam assured. Rowena listened from the open back door of the car, concern turning to worry. "I don't know how he knew who you were, but the gala was a trap."

"No, no, it was Michael in my dream," she cried, trying to hold back panicked sobs. "The Doctor's gone, he's being held somewhere. It was a shapeshifter! The one we thought was the Doctor, it was a shapeshifter. Oh, God, where's Cas?!" She tried to get up, but Sam gathered her in his arms instead. Amy put her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder.

"Cas is going to be fine, Charlie's going to be fine, everything's going to be fine," Sam assured her. "We will find him, Amy. I promise." They all gathered around her, including Rowena, trying to give her some comfort.

Once Amy had calmed down some, everyone piled back in the Impala and took off. Amy and Jack eventually fell asleep against each other. Rowena sat shotgun, staring out the passenger window.

"Our merry band has dwindled," she mused with a sigh.

"This isn't really the time for jokes," Sam said calmly, tiredly.

"Why does everyone think I'm joking now?" Rowena asked incredulously. "My friend's half dead, we almost lost two others, and our angel isn't an angel anymore."

"We don't know that for sure," Sam cut in. "We won't know until he wakes up."

She shook her head doubtfully but dropped it. "Have you heard anything from Bobby?"

"Not yet," he replied but pulled out his phone to let her check. "I’d say they're both still out right now." He glanced over at Rowena when she didn't respond; she was looking out the window, her face almost unreadable. "You know Charlie's going to be okay, right? Even though it didn't look like it, the blade didn't hit any major arteries, and you stepped in immediately with the healing spells."

"Oh, so you  _ do _ approve of magic every now and then?" Rowena asked snidely. "I apologize, sometimes I get confused on where you stand."

Sam shook his head. "I'm just gonna let that go because I know you're stressed and scared." She huffed at that, but she was secretly grateful. There was silence while he debated whether or not to potentially open a can of worms. "You know...I'm not sure if I knew you could care this much about people. I mean sure, there was Oskar, but...anyone recently, I mean."

Rowena closed her eyes and breathed deeply before she spoke. She figured he'd notice something like that, the giant Care Bear. "I've mucked up a lot of things in my life, Samuel, as you well know. I can't ever fix things with my dear Fergus, but I can at least make the best of the relationships I have now. I used to disregard most people because they didn't have what I needed or couldn't help me gain any modicum of power. But if the world is going to end after all, then no amount of power I have is gonna amount to shite anyway." She donned a sarcastic smile. "Might as well 'love thy neighbor' and all that rubbish."

Sam smiled. "I know exactly how you feel—on some of it."

"Ugh, don't try to relate to me, Winchester," Rowena groaned with a roll of her eyes, actually making him laugh a bit.

"All I'm saying," he started, "is that we've been in worse shape before, and we made it out okay. Even if it went south—and it went south fast, like record-breaking—we actually found Dean and Michael. That's more than I was expecting." He patted her arm lightly, hoping he'd convinced her despite failing to convince himself. "We're gonna be okay."

Just then his phone buzzed and she checked it for him. "It's mumsy," she said, mockingly happy.

"Give me that," Sam said through a laugh. She gave him the phone and watched the road while he read the text.

_ Heard through the grapevine that you were in Santa Barbara this past weekend. Working a case not far outside Reno. Let me know if you need a place to crash. Love you. _

Sam smiled with relief. "Looks like we won't have to drive all night after all."

 

* * *

 

 

Once they were a few hours away from Santa Barbara and on the other side of the California state line, Sam stopped at a gas station to call his mom. He explained their entire situation to her and everything that had happened in the past day, hoping as he did that her offer still stood once he was done—which, of course, it did. Three hours later, Mary's directions brought the group to a house tucked away in the hills just outside Reno, Nevada. Sam took a deep breath of warm night air and smiled; she'd waited out on the porch to greet them, coming down the stairs to wrap her youngest in a hug.

“Hey, sweetie,” Mary said warmly, standing back to look at him.

“Mom, it’s great to see you,” Sam admitted, already feeling some of the worry and anxiety melt from his shoulders. She looked back towards the cars; even in the dim light, she could tell that only a few were able to get out on their own.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding," she began as they walked over to help. "Any casualties?”

“Miraculously, no,” he said with incredulity, both of them helping Rowena to lift unconscious Charlie out of the back of the truck. Jack insisted on helping Amy in since she was still disoriented from the poison, and Bobby waited on Sam to come back out so they could carry in Cas, also lying unconscious in the truck bed.

"That was the quietest ride of my life," Bobby joked darkly once everyone was settled in and the injured all had beds. Sam raised an eyebrow at him, making Bobby shake his head at himself.

“Hey, Bobby,” Mary greeted him.

“Mary,” Bobby responded, nodding his head and giving a smile. The two men followed her to the living room, Sam wondering whether or not he should remove his shoes first. The inside of the house was an off-white color made to look like brick in some areas, but the decor was the part that definitely screamed “partially abandoned wife of a casino owner.”

“Did you ever figure out that double suicide?” she inquired.

“Still not a clue, but I’m glad I left it for later," he began. "This group needs all the help it can get. No offense to your leadership skills, Sam.”

“Oh, none taken,” Sam assured him. “Yeah, this one made us realize we’re not going to be able to get Dean back alone. We're gonna need as many of the Apocalypse World crew back as possible.”

“Well, come on and get something to eat,” Mary ordered cheerfully. “Food's already ready, we can talk all about it later.”

Sam definitely wasn’t about to delay a meal; his stomach had griped at him for the last hundred miles. As they walked to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but point out the obvious about their new accommodations. “This house is  _ massive _ .”

“Yeah, it is,” Mary agreed proudly. “Sorry you all had to park so far away. Apparently, the wife is allergic to car exhaust, but only when it’s anywhere near the house.” They all laughed tiredly.

“Did you buy it from them or something?” Bobby quipped.

Mary chuckled. “Funny man. It's strictly a loaner.” She noted their incredulous expressions and continued. “Hey, even the wealthy turn up dead sometimes. I told them I needed a space close to the crime scene to suss out evidence, and they were happy to oblige.”

"‘Happy’?" Sam clarified as they arrived in the kitchen, the smell of meat and sauce clinging to the air around them.

"You know what I mean,” Mary huffed as she stirred a pot, directing Sam to stir the other one with the noodles. “Obviously, no one's happy when their daughter and her friends are found mangled, almost unrecognizable, by the side of the road.” Sam slowly stopped stirring, eyeing Bobby and realizing they now both felt awful for making light of Mary’s case. Apparently, it had no effect on her. “Marinara sauce?" she offered brightly a second later.  The two men tried not to laugh at her sudden shift in tone, but the amusement showed on their faces. "What?"

The three of them took bowls full of spaghetti, cheese, and marinara sauce to everyone that was awake—although most claimed they weren’t hungry, they took the food gratefully—then sat down in the dining room and ate themselves. Once they were finished, the previous conversation commenced. 

“You left some stuff at the motel?” Mary inquired, concerned. She decided it really depended on  _ what  _ was left behind when it came to whether or not she should be alarmed.

“Mm-hmm,” Bobby grunted. “Once we got Amy and Cas back, we got the hell out of Dodge.”

Sam nodded before adding on. “We figured they probably knew where we were staying, probably already had some guys out there in case we came back."

"Well, I'd call to see if they saved anything,” Mary began, “but Michael and his might still be watching the place. Hell, they could be running the motel. Anyone could be one of his followers."

"That’s just one more thing,” Sam continued in distress. “We had a damn shapeshifter in our midst spying for Michael—but  _ how _ ? I mean, he was in the bunker, so the alarms should’ve gone off.”

“Michael is capable of just about anything,” Mary reminded, shaking her head in dismay. “It’s possible he somehow cloaked the shifter’s abilities so that he wouldn’t get caught.”

“He was always good at the element of surprise during the war in our world,” Bobby noted. Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers, shaking his head at their situation.

“What is it?” Mary asked gently, already leaning forward to hear the answer.

Sam held his hands up in a low shrug. “I just feel like I messed this one up big time. I got too confident or impatient, I don’t know. Nobody should’ve been at that party, it was too risky.”

“It sounds to me like you took every precaution you could,” Mary imparted, “and there were unexpected changes to your plan, which can throw anyone off. As for Amy, how were you to know that Michael would recognize her? None of this is on any of you, honey.”

Sam let her words comfort him, tried his best to believe them, but there was still yet another pressing issue. “She’s hiding something. She was about to confess to it before, but I think I know some of what it is already.” He could thank Rowena for that.

“Sounds like you should all have a talk,” Mary suggest with a note of finality before pushing away from the table. “I'll be right back, just gonna check on Cas and Charlie.”

Sam looked over at the quiet but observant man sitting across from him. “What do you think?” he inquired solemnly.

“I try to think as little as possible,” Bobby joked, earning a scoff and partial smile from the younger man. Serious, he shrugged before continuing. “I think you did the best you could and got screwed anyway, kid. That’s life sometimes.” Sam nodded, knowing he was right. If they got screwed too many more times though, odds were that some of them might not make it through. He knew he couldn’t let that happen.

Mary made her rounds, first checking in on Charlie who was being watched by Rowena. She hadn’t woken yet, so Mary offered to fetch the witch anything, then moved on once she shook her head and began chanting over Charlie once more. In the next room, Mary found a similar scene; a somewhat anxious Jack hunched over in his chair towards a half-unconscious Castiel, the young man’s weary eyes apparent even from across the room.

“Hey, Mary,” Jack greeted as happily as he could manage.

She gave him a sympathetic smile and a squeeze on the shoulder. “Hi, Jack. How is he?”

“He keeps waking up, but not enough to say much,” Jack reported, almost like a nurse exchanging information with a doctor.

She nodded. “How are  _ you _ ? I heard you got knocked out, too.” After all the things the two of them had been through during their time in Apocalypse World, she swore she’d never seen him look as tired as he did in that moment. Then she remembered that he’d lost his powers to Lucifer months ago, and she almost regretted her question. There was no way he was okay. 

Still, he gave her a small smile and said, “I’m fine. Really.” She tilted her head, her lips in a tight line, when she saw Cas stir out of the corner of her eye.

“Castiel, you have to rest,” she said quietly, leaning down by the bed and rubbing the angel’s arm. He gave a distressed mumble of what sounded like a feminine name, causing her to respond in kind. “Amy’s okay. She’s resting right now, just like you should be."

Cas opened his eyes, recognized her and tried to smile. “Mary.”

She did smile; that he seemed to know who people were was a good sign. “Hey. Are you feeling any better?” As she asked, his head lolled to the side and his eyes closed. “Cas?” After a few moments with no answer she sighed, pushing some hair back off of his still slightly creased forehead. Slowly, dreading the answer she might glean, Mary pressed two fingers to where his carotid should be if he were human. Her heart fell after a few seconds of feeling an undeniable pulse, as she and Jack exchanged a solemn glance.

Mary walked back into the dining room to see Sam and Bobby gathering the empty bowls and cups, but they stopped when they saw her. “What?” her son asked almost nonchalantly before he felt a wave of panic hit. From her expression, he figured someone was dead. In a way, he was right. “What is it?” he inquired shakily.

She shook her head, sighed before answering. “He’s human.”

 

* * *

 

 

After a shower that was probably too hot for her own good, Amy dressed in pajama pants and a tank top and sat on the edge of her bed. She wrapped her lacerated and severely bruised wrists with bandages she found in the medicine cabinet of the bathroom attached to her room. With the size of the house, she wagered every bedroom had its own toilet, but Amy was relieved she didn’t have to leave to find first aid supplies. She didn’t really feel like seeing anyone at the moment. Even though she felt that way, she realized she’d have to come out of isolation in order to check on Charlie and Cas.  _ If Cas is even still _ —she stopped the thought short.

Now that she was awake, the dream began to fade as reality came back into focus.  _ Love marks _ , she remembered as she finished wrapping. None of that had been real. The thought made her sick to her stomach now, knocked the air out of her chest momentarily. She buried her head in her hands, gripping her hair painfully tight between her fingers, anger and fear trying to coax her into ripping out as much as possible. She sat like this for minutes, considering it. Instead, she decided to let go and walk out into the hallway. She touched the textured walls hesitantly, skeptically. That was always the problem she found with living in altered reality for any length of time; it was almost impossible to trust the real world once she was back. 

Amy eventually reached the kitchen, looking for anyone. The last thing she needed was to get lost in this house while searching for her wounded friends. She turned back, deciding to venture back the way she came, and was about to pass the living room when—

“Amy?”

She jumped half a foot, even yelped, before turning quickly towards the sound. It was the lady she saw Sam talking with earlier that evening when they first arrived. She stood from a recliner, placing her book on the arm before speaking. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said earnestly. “I’m Mary, Sam’s mom.” Though she spoke, she stayed standing in front of the chair. Amy was thankful.

“Hi, um…” Now that she’d found someone, she seemed to have trouble speaking. “It’s okay. Startling me...it’s kind of easy to do.” She was almost afraid to ask the question that she needed to. “Is Charlie okay? Rowena said something about her.”

“She’s still out, but she’s stable at least,” Mary relayed. “There was a lot of blood loss, apparently.”

Amy gulped. “Good, good,” she replied, though her stomach turned again. “I mean—about her being stable.” She huffed, having no recollection of why Charlie was unconscious in the first place.

“She’s down at the end of that hall,” Mary supplied, anticipating her next question.

“Thank you,” Amy replied, making to leave.

“You know,” Mary continued softly, “if you ever want to talk about what happened, everyone here is willing to lend an ear.” Amy nodded graciously, even mustered up a small smile, but she couldn’t even fathom rehashing what happened in that warehouse at the moment. Mary didn’t linger on the subject though. “Are you hungry? We still have plenty of food.”

“Maybe later. Thank you though,” she said again, but she could tell from Mary’s expression that she should stay put. The woman took a few steps closer and Amy raised her chin, keeping eye contact.

“You should know,” Mary began slowly, “we think Michael took his grace.” Amy bowed her head, the queasiness in her stomach almost overpowering. “I mean, whoever took it, it's gone.”

Amy lifted her head and nodded. “I know he did it. I watched it happen.” Before she could see Mary’s pitying expression, she left down the hallway, maybe slightly quicker than she should’ve in the dark. She was relieved when she reached the last door, giving a few light taps before opening it an inch. But when she and Rowena saw each other, the witch stood and Amy rushed in to hug her. Though slightly shocked, Rowena hugged her back.

“Thank you,” Amy said, her voice thick with emotion.

“It wasn’t me,” Rowena began lightly, pulling away to grasp Amy’s hands. “You saved yourself. I’m proud of you.”

They smiled at each other, just happy to be together on the same plane of existence again, when Amy realized Jack was sitting on the other side of the bed. She made an awkward chuckle and waved before kneeling down next to Charlie. “She’s just sleeping now,” he informed.

“The healing is taking its toll, but the spell is helping to speed it along,” Rowena added. Amy took the young woman’s hand in hers; she allowed herself a moment of guilt before pushing it to the back of her mind. It was easy to see that there wasn’t much she could do for her, as ignorant of spells as she still was.

She gulped before bringing him up, trying to swallow her apprehension, something she couldn’t seem to do when speaking with Mary. “Is Cas alright?”

“He was having trouble settling down,” Jack confessed. “I was worried that my being there was keeping him awake, but...he kept asking for you.”

Amy looked up at him, almost startled. “R-Really?” He nodded solemnly as her chest began to ache. Why would he ask for her when it was her fault he was so bad off? If she’d just held it together a little longer at the party—

“Go on, Amy,” Rowena cut through her thoughts suddenly.

“What?”

“Go look in on him. I’ll be with Charlie until she wakes,” she assured her.

Amy did as she suggested, though she couldn’t help but feel selfish for leaving. Still, she wanted to see for herself how Castiel was doing, and she didn’t quite like the thought of him being alone in a place he didn’t know. She went one door down as Jack had advised and found him. The bedside lamp was on and even in the dim light, she could see the damage Michael had inflicted. One cheek was swollen and purple, his jaw almost matching in color. Her desire to cry faded when she realized he wasn’t sleeping easy. Quietly, she tip-toed over and sat in the chair by his bed, gently taking his hand. He stirred at the contact and she almost let go, worried she’d disturbed him, but then she heard it as clear as day. 

“Amelia.”

Her heart leapt against her will as she squeezed his hand. “I’m here, Cas,” she murmured shakily. “It’s okay. We’re safe.”

“I’m sorry,” he groaned, his eyes still closed.

She almost scoffed at that. What did he have to be sorry for? She was the one who egged Michael on and most likely made things worse for him. Amy bent her head down, bringing their clasped hands to her forehead. “I’m sorry, too.”

“No...should’ve protected you.”

“Stop,” she pleaded softly. “Get some sleep.”

Eventually, his breathing slowed again. She absently wondered if it felt strange to him, needing to breathe. 

Amy felt sleepy again after staying for a while, then exhausted after sitting there even longer. Still, she didn’t want him to wake up alone. Sunlight slowly crept through the window as she curled up beside him on the bed, their hands still entwined as sleep finally overtook her.


	9. The Truth Might Possibly Set You Free, We're Not Sure Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive.
> 
> So what have I been doing? A little bit of everything, and I hated most of it. The holidays were pretty great though, and I'm even in the midst of something that might resemble a relationship. Seeing as I'm aromantic as fuck, we'll see how that turns out. But for now, I have a new chapter for you guys! It's a doozy and somewhat experimental. It changes back and forth between tenses a few times, but I tried to make the shifts obvious. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy my longest boi yet. Even if you don't, I'm still very proud of it.
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IOEqWKsKURAgpsEnKpjkV?si=FYricF9NQ52J26QRYXiTvQ) \- a few songs for a few different time periods. :)

The day after they arrived in Reno at Mary’s “loaner home” Sam was back on the internet, searching for any trace of where Michael could be. Mary decided to continue with her case, receiving an offer of help from the last person she expected.

“I’m not sure it’s a great idea, Rowena,” she confessed, loading a duffel bag with various necessities.

“And why not?” the witch asked earnestly. “Samuel and Robert are covering research, and everyone else is still unconscious in some form. Now, what would be the sense in waking or interrupting anyone when I’m completely available?” She smiled and stretched out her arms, trying to really sell it.

“Shouldn’t you be here tending to the wounded?” Mary asked.

Rowena pursed her lips, exhaling audibly. “I’ve done all I can for them, I’m afraid.”

Though she wasn’t in a hurry, Mary didn’t feel like arguing the point. Plus, Rowena actually seemed genuinely... _concerned_. She nodded, letting out a long sigh. “But follow my lead if we meet anyone.”

“Yes ma’am,” Rowena answered before going to gather her things. Mary knew it was sarcastic and shook her head in disapproval. As the two women left, Sam and Bobby exchanged a worried look and hoped Mary knew what she was possibly getting herself into.

They arrived at the scene right off highway 647 a few minutes later, the yellow police tape marking it as their obvious destination. Although they searched the ground and surrounding shrubs for two hours—even venturing down to the edge of the river to have a look—they found absolutely nothing new. Mary decided their next stop would be the morgue, even if she was feeling somewhat discouraged already.

“There’s just nothing,” Mary vented on the way there, “no leads, no witnesses, and not very much help from the local law either.”

“I thought it was strange that no one was there,” Rowena mentioned.

“Exactly,” the hunter confirmed vehemently. “It only happened three days ago. They should be scouring the place constantly, not just us. I mean, it’s _four_ dead, almost unidentifiable girls, and they can’t find anything medically wrong with them. Yet, somehow, their bodies being mangled _wasn’t_ the cause of death? Nobody even seems to think it’s weird. And the parents can’t seem to get anywhere with the authorities, it’s just...”

“Ridiculous?” Rowena supplied.

“ _Exactly_ ,” Mary reiterated. They arrived at the medical examiner’s office and stopped at the front desk. “Now remember...follow my lead.” Rowena nodded with a stoic expression and Mary felt a little less uneasy. Maybe she wouldn’t cause any trouble after all. The receptionist came out of the office behind the desk and Mary smiled at her.

“Me again, Larisa,” Mary said casually, flashing her badge, to which the other woman smiled as well.

“Well, you gotta keep up your streak, right?” Larisa joked, sitting in her chair.

“Don’t I know it,” Mary responded with a light laugh.

“They got you workin’ on your day off?” the receptionist asked sympathetically.

“Oh, yeah,” Mary began with a ho-hum tone, looking down as if just noticing her civilian clothing. “You know how it is. My boss is really on my ass about this one.”

“But I see you brought a friend this time,” Larisa noticed, leaning on the desk and eyeing Rowena in passive judgment. “And who might you be?”

All Mary got out was, “This is—“

“Delia Hartwood, forensic medium,” Rowena answered confidently, holding out her hand for shaking. Mary couldn’t help but falter for a moment, taken aback, then disappointed with herself for being surprised. Of course Rowena would strike off on her own in some way and go off-book; it was sort of her M.O.

Larisa shook her hand hesitantly, glancing at Mary half the time. “A _psychic_. Damn, Mary. I knew you were chompin’ at the bit to solve this thing but—“

“She’s licensed with the bureau,” Mary thought quickly. _Two can play that game, Miss Witch._ She leaned in close to Larisa then. “They made me bring her.” Rowena still heard, making a shocked and disgusted face in her general direction.

“Well, I suppose,” Larisa said as she grabbed the keys and started towards the morgue, seeming only partly convinced. Rowena sauntered after but only for a moment before Mary grabbed her arm.

“Seriously?” she hissed, “What part of ‘follow my lead’ do you not understand?”

Rowena smiled triumphantly. “How else were you going to explain a woman dressed like I am with no badge following you like a wee pup to see dead bodies?” She picked up Mary’s hand with two fingers and dropped it to the side. “I believe ‘thank you’ is a much more suitable response, Mary dear.” She walked on, leaving the hunter to silently seethe as they ventured down the rest of the hall.

“They moved them to the other side,” Larisa explained when they arrived, pointing to the opposite end of the room before handing Mary one of the keys. “You remember procedure. Don’t forget to lock up.” Mary nodded in understanding as she left, then crossed the room to the refrigerators.

A few minutes later, Rowena was “reading” one of the bodies as Mary checked another. The latter looked up every now and then to see the former standing in the exact same position, her hands hovering inches over the body and her eyelids fluttering. Was she actually doing something or just pretending?

“Got anything yet?” Mary asked easily.

“No, I need to concentrate,” Rowena replied in one breath, to which the other simply rolled her eyes.

Ten minutes passed. Mary moved on to the next body. Twenty minutes. “What about now?”

Rowena huffed almost instantly as if expecting another interruption. “I’m starting to see where Samuel gets his impatience.” God, if Mary had ever wanted to punch that woman… “This isn’t hunting. You don’t shoot first, ask questions la—“ Rowena gasped softly, then harshly, opening her eyes in horror.

“What?” Mary rushed over. She was pretty sure she wasn’t playing now, unless she was good at pretending to tremble. “Rowena, what’s wrong?”

“It’s…” Rowena started, at a loss for words for the first time that Mary had ever witnessed. “I don’t exactly know what it is. But it’s horrible, and…” She hesitated, then looked up at her. “...it killed them from the inside out.”

Mary’s forehead creased in disbelief as she looked to the other bodies. “Without leaving a mark internally?”

“So it would seem,” Rowena said shakily. “Something like that...would take a great amount of energy, and is most certainly not of this world.”

“You’re thinking an alien did this?” Mary asked, almost amused.

“I don’t know, truly!” Rowena retorted with a panicked tone.

Mary straightened, placing her hands on her hips. “My God, you’re actually scared.” She put up her hands in a diminishing way as if to backtrack the conversation. “Couldn’t it just be angels, or—or magic?”

Rowena scoffed humorlessly. “If I’d ever had this much power, we wouldn’t still be trying to defeat Michael. But that’s another thing.” She continued hesitantly. “I sensed something else in these girls. They were…connected somehow, but it was definitely _through_ magic.” After a deep but shaky breath, she finished. “Mary, these girls were a coven.”

* * *

Not even half an hour after Rowena’s discovery, she and Mary were back at the house, divulging everything to Sam, Bobby, and Jack. The conversation had just turned to the possibility of Michael when Charlie woke up. They stopped to take care of her, only to catch her up and continue the conversation. When Castiel finally woke late that evening, the men had the whole conversation with him all over again. All were just as horrified as Rowena and Mary had been. Charlie found her mentor early the next morning, still pouring over grimoires and journals.

“You should get some rest,” she remarked, sitting down at the dining room table beside her. “I remember what you always say about beauty sleep.”

“I’ll be fine,” Rowena replied stubbornly, turning a page.

There was a moment where Charlie hesitated to continue. “Are we going to tell Amy?”

“That Michael’s most likely wiping out entire covens now?” Rowena clarified. “I don’t see where we have a choice but to tell her.”

Charlie nodded. “Maybe she’ll still join us.”

“Maybe she shouldn’t.”

The younger woman sighed. “We have an advantage they didn’t.” She placed her hand comfortingly on Rowena’s arm. “We’re not alone.” The witch gave a half-hearted smile, putting her hand over Charlie’s. Rowena knew she was right; she just wished she believed it would make a difference in the end.

She looked back to her book, happening upon a strange sequence of words: ... _crawled out from inside her._ She dropped Charlie’s hand and trailed her finger under each line as she read. Charlie sighed and stood—until Rowena caught her wrist.

“What?” Another long moment of Rowena’s feverish reading, her finger flying across the page. “Ro, what is it?”

“One,” Rowena began, her head snapping up in an alarming fashion, “I abhor that nickname. And two, I think I know what we’re up against. Where’s Sam?”

“In the living room.” Rowena jumped up, dragging Charlie with her. For someone who’d just possibly solved a difficult case, there was no levity in the witch’s demeanor. Whatever she’d further discovered, it was serious.

* * *

Amy woke up later that day, startled for a moment by her unfamiliar surroundings. She took a deep breath once she remembered, sitting up to realize that she was alone. After standing too quick and plopping back on the bed for a moment to placate the head rush, she hurried to the door and started down the hall. Just then, Castiel came around the corner and she stopped, the biggest grin erupting on her face. His expression lightened as well and she ran to him, but she halted short to give him a gentle hug, remembering where his injuries were. To her surprise—and delight—he hugged her back tighter.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” he began, pulling back. “We were starting to worry.”

She frowned slightly. “How long was I out?”

“Almost two days.” She raised her eyebrows in shock as he continued. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” His expression was unclear, but she shook her head all the same.

“You’re not though.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “It’s not my first time being human.”

Amy paused, her head tilted in confusion. “It’s not?”

Sam plodded through to the living room, stopping when he saw her. Amy and Cas didn’t realize how close they were standing until they noticed him, electing to let go of each other’s arms. “Amy, good, you’re up. Go ahead and eat because we need to talk.” He wagged a finger, pointing at them both. “All of us.” She felt apprehensive once more as he left.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Cas mused, looking after him.

She swallowed hard. “I think I know.”

After eating a small amount of cereal—her nerves about the conversation to come had ruined her appetite—Amy met everyone in the living room, laughing with glee when she saw Charlie. They carefully hugged before the group took their seats.

“So,” Sam started with a clearing of his throat, “something interesting came to light at the gala right before things went south—”

“‘To hell in a hand-basket’ seems more appropriate,” Bobby interjected.

“Right, thanks, Bobby,” Sam continued without hesitation. “Amy, do you care to explain to us why you’ve been lying?” He was frank, no judgement apparent in his tone. His eyes, however...

Amy looked around at the faces staring back at her, heart racing. These people who’d, over the past couple of months, helped her reacclimate to the world around her, who’d welcomed her into their lives with very little question. And she’d betrayed their trust. She looked down at her hands, scratching at one fingernail with another—until a hand slipped into hers. She raised her head to see Charlie give her an encouraging nod as she squeezed her hand. Amy looked back to Sam, taking a deep breath before she began.

“I'll try to make this as concise as possible, but I should start from the beginning. In 2012, I was permanently separated from the Doctor by a race of monsters known as the Weeping Angels. They send individuals back in time, effectively erasing their lives so that they can feed off the energy of the timeline that would’ve been. They did this to me as well as countless others...one of the others being my husband at the time.”

* * *

1938

_“We woke up as the world was preparing to go to war. Again.”_

Gasping for air as she sits up. A sea of gravestones. “Rory?” Her head spinning as she looks around for him. “Rory!”

A hand grasping her arm, drawing a yelp. Rory Williams. “Can you stand?”

“Y-yeah, yeah.” A stutter, a hug. She thanks any possible deity that they landed in the same place. In the same time.

“What happened?” His voice shakes just as much as his hands.

“It was the Angels. They got us.” Her heart breaks. Stops.

His head shakes in confusion. “But they were gone.”

“Not all of them.” Crying into his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re alive.” A kiss on her head. Her heart sputters. Restarts.

_“I never told him that I had to talk myself into following him back. But I knew I’d fucked up big time as soon as I woke up in that cemetery.”_

“We have to get different clothes.” Rory in a foreign alleyway. Amy trudging along behind him in utter despair. “We probably look ridiculous.”

_“I didn’t care. I already knew we were stuck and the Doctor wouldn’t be able to save us this time. We had to save ourselves. But Rory wouldn’t hear of it.”_

“Is it really so bad?” It’s only been four days. He’s bold.

“Are you serious?” Two hours in a hospital, already on the job hunt. Frazzled nerves on her part.

“Maybe this is our chance at a new start,” Optimism. “A normal life.” Gross.

_“Even just hearing the words turned my stomach. But it was what he’d always wanted for us and I knew that. So I played along. For as long as I could."_

 

1939

“They'll be here soon.” Rory tightens his tie in front of the mirror over the sink. “You did put 7 on the invites, right?” She waltzes into the bathroom, doing a twirl. He looks over at her, almost emotionless. “What's that?”

“It's a cocktail dress, moron.” She’s playful. She taught herself how to be all over again. For him.

“It's a...bit revealing, don't you think?” He’s careful.

A nervous laugh. “No more revealing than a flapper's dress.”

“Amy, please, my boss will be here.” Not so careful. Annoyed, even.

She blinks. “You're serious.”

“Yes.”

A long moment of hesitation. He usually realizes he’s wrong in this moment, backpedals furiously in order to avoid her wrath. Not this time. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Relief for him; the start of her quiet rage.

_“Rory wanted me to settle down, be a normal housewife of the time, chat with the neighbors about war efforts and victory gardens, but that wasn’t me.”_

 

1940

“I don’t see why it’s so difficult for you.” Rory huffs. The second fight their kitchen had seen that week alone.

“That’s because you don’t even miss where we came from!” She yells. So tired of trying, of pretending.

“That is _not_ fair!”

“Really?” She stands in front of him, arms crossed. He wants to talk about _unfair_? “You’ve got everything you ever wanted right here.”

“Yeah, and you don’t?”

“No.” Not even a split second of hesitation. She misses her family, her parents. What few friends her hectic work schedule allowed her to have. Work itself, too. So honestly, she isn’t thinking at all about-

A low chuckle, humorless and scathing. “It’s always going to come back around to him, isn’t it?”

Her eyes close. A shake of her head. “You say, yet you’re the one bringing him up.” Her voice is cold and sharp, more than enough to hide how her heart aches at the mention of _him_. 

He stands to leave but turns. Malevolent eyes, a warning to her. “It’s been two years, Amy! Let him go!” The front door slams. She’s alone yet again. Pounding the kitchen counter until her fists turn purple.

_“It was right after one of our bigger fights that she showed up.”_

A woman of moderate stature with bright blonde hair and deep red lipstick stands on Amy’s doorstep one day.

“Sorry, we’ve already given to the Red Cross and my husband’s a volunteer.” The door, only an inch from closing—

“Amelia Pond?”

—squeaks back open slowly, cautiously. That’s a discarded surname. Forbidden, even. “Who are you?”

“Tallulah Harris.” Kind, bright eyes and smile. “I heard you might be a good person to talk to about the Doctor.”

Amy’s heart races as she stares. Old wounds twinge from the onslaught of palpitations.

“Mind if I come in for a minute?” Narrowed eyes. This Tallulah’s unsure.

A handshake. Tallulah admires the flat. Amy puts the kettle on as her hands shake.

“You have a lovely home.” Is she just naturally this kind? And that _accent—_

“So, you know the Doctor.”

“Yes. He helped my husband, Laszlo, some years back. Even with the deformity, we’ll both be eternally grateful.”

Yep, that sounded like him. Deformity and all, whether he’d caused it or not. “Well, I'm sorry to say I haven't had contact with the Doctor in two years.”

A flick of her hand. “Oh, that's no problem. The stories of your adventures are legendary at the office.”

Um… “That doesn’t—they haven’t happened yet.”

“There are complete accounts thanks to your daughter.” Ah.

“River. Is she okay?” Does she actually want to know the answer? What if she’s not? It’s not as if Amy could do anything about it—

“Oh yeah, she’s fine.” Hand flick. Expensive perfume fills the air around them with each movement she makes. “She drops in every few years or so. Always mentions how she needs to visit you, it’s very sweet.”

“But she hasn’t yet.” Not even bloody Christmas.

“What was that?”

“Nothing—continue, please.”

Throat clearing. “I’m with a secret organization known as LONGBOW. Unofficially, it stands for ‘League of Nations Global Bizarre Occurrences Watch.’ Not only is it a mouthful but we also have our hands full.” Giggling at her own joke now. Adorable. People in secret organizations always seemed to be cute.

But Amy laughs weakly. It’s all she can afford. “So, I don’t understand. Does the Doctor work with you or…”

“Oh, to dream! No, this has more to do with the reason you’re here in this time period.”

Amy’s eyes darkened. “But you said you wanted to talk about the Doctor.”

Hesitation. “Well...we need him back, if possible.” Tallulah hands Amy a small stack of photos. Gives her a moment to look through them. All unassuming people of different backgrounds and cultures. No visible link between them. “These are all people who’ve gone missing from Manhattan in the past four years. They’re all suspected of falling victim to the Weeping Angels.”

Amy’s head snaps up. Her blood runs cold in fear for the first time in years. It must show on her face. Tallulah speaks apologetically, almost timidly. “I know this must be a tough subject, but we're spinnin' our wheels here. There's only so much we know about the Angels, and it doesn't seem to be enough.”

“They're supposed to be gone.” A hoarse tone. Amy’s throat is as dry as the desert.

“We thought so, too. After the ruckus at Winter Quay and seeing it disappear from our records, we figured we were in the clear. But apparently...some slipped through, and not just the one that sent you back.”

That created twice as many questions as it answered. Amy wants to ask her to leave. But the kettle starts to whistle. Tallulah follows her to the kitchen.

Amy fumbles. Drops of tea on the counter. “I'm sorry, um...like I said, I haven't seen the Doctor in a long time.” Shaky.

“Even so, we could use a mind like yours.” No wonder they sent her. That smile...

Amy cocks an eyebrow, holding both cups. “Me? I'm not sure there's much I can do to be of help to anyone.” She didn’t exactly mean that though.

“Are you kidding? You?” And Tallulah isn’t buying it. “Lulu” would be a great nickname for her—“The woman who saved the last Starwhale in existence? The woman who led a resistance against the Silence and took down Madame Kovarian?” She shakes a victorious fist. Almost in her face now. “The woman who convinced that Bracewell guy not to blow himself up?”

“Wow, River's been thorough.”

She backs off. “If you or the Doctor can't help us, well...I'm not sure anyone can.”

Amy only has to think for a second. Or two. She hands her one mug. “Okay then. What do you need from me?”

_"For years, Rory never knew, never even suspected that I was working with a special forces team. Whenever he worked, I worked. Along with tracking the Weeping Angels, we were tasked with solving any strange or extraterrestrial cases thrown our way. We were tied in with the League of Nations so, unfortunately, those days didn't last all that long for the two of us."_

 

1946

They stand outside their nameless office building as maintenance grinds the LONGBOW insignia out of the brick. Tallulah sighs longingly. “I suppose everything comes to an end. I was hoping I'd never see this day. What do you think you'll do now, Amy?” A hand on her elbow. “Sorry—Agent Jane. It doesn't have to be over yet, you know.”

Amy smiles. “I'm not sure...I'm really not sure. I mean, I have my writing, but that surely won't fill all my days.”

“Have you ever thought about having another kid?”

They begin to walk away for the last time. “Oh, you know I can't. Demon's Run made sure of that.”

Tallulah nudges her arm. “Yeah, but there's always adoption. Laszlo and I did it as you know. LONGBOW advocated for us when they tried to deny on the basis of Laszlo's deformity, so I'm sure you wouldn't even have that much trouble. And of course, there's a great need. War makes orphans, unfortunately.”

They link arms as Amy mulls it over. “It's definitely something to think about.”

_"That was how we came to adopt Anthony. I was so sure things would finally be perfect with him there. But even after all those years, I still couldn't settle."_

 

1947

Amy changes Anthony’s diaper on the sofa as Rory rushes around getting ready for work on Christmas Eve. By now, she’s well-versed in baby talk. “Oh, yes, mummy’s got your toes! Yes, mummy’s gonna eat them up!”

He considers two different ties in a mirror. “Amy, don’t you think that’ll scare him?”

“He’s a baby, Rory.” A happy coo, as if to support that fact. “He has no idea what I’m saying.”

“But still, they seem to figure things out. Is he hungry?”

Amy huffs. “Yes, babies are almost always hungry. Just go to work.”

A quick kiss on her cheek. “You’re sure you’ve got this?” He receives a look that states he’s about to get it upside the head. “Right. Okay bye, have a good day!” And a kiss for Anthony. “Daddy’s gonna go do some amputations.”

“Now _that_ would give him nightmares.” Just teasing. Rory goes to work, and so does Amy.

“Alright, are you ready to see Aunty Tallulah today?”

_"Even though LONGBOW had disbanded, there were still up-and-coming organizations that insisted they could use my and Tallulah’s expertise. I always figured I was the one they called when the Doctor himself was unreachable. I thought I was being as discreet as ever, but my 'little' secret from Rory didn't last long."_

 

1948

“When were you gonna tell me?” His voice is low.

“Never.” Hers is louder. The kitchen is obviously a magnet for domestic disturbances.

“Why?”

Counting off on her fingers. “One, I don't have to; and two, because of the reaction you're having right now.”

“I'm having this reaction because my wife has been _lying_ to me for years. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is for us? For Anthony?”

“What? LONGBOW made sure our phone line is untraceable, and security is the reason I've always used an alias. I'm not an idiot, Rory.” Almost yelling now, but the baby’s asleep.

He’s pacing. “I can't believe this. You're still at it, after all these years. I mean, at one point I thought you were simply having an affair.”

“Oh, of course you did, because that's just the type of woman I am to you, isn't it? An unfaithful, ungrateful, domineering old _battle-axe_ , yeah?”

“I would never call you that!”

“What, ‘battle-axe’ or ‘unfaithful’?” Exasperation. “I am never going to live up to your standards, they're too bloody high! I came to terms with that a long time ago, and it's time you did, too.” Why don’t you understand?

“ _My_ standards are too high? That's rich! Seeing as I had to compete with a damn god for the first part of our relationship—”

Now for the screaming. “Oh, I _know_ you're not bringing him into this! He has nothing to do with your unwavering insecurities!”

“You're right, he doesn't. You do.” His finger in her face. Judge.

“Of course, here we go.” It’d be so easy to throw the plate in the drainboard—

“You always gravitated towards him when he was around, and I was _nothing_!” Jury.

“And he wasn't around much, was he? I wanted to be with my friend in the short periods of time that I could be, but you could never stand that!”

A pretentious scoff. “'Friend'? You _still_ expect me to believe that’s all he was?”

Executioner. The guillotine falls on their marriage.

There’s silence for a minute as she blinks at the counter before she speaks again. “I can't do this anymore. Get out.”

“...W-what?”

“I'm done. You're always going to think I'm lying, so I'll give you one moment of unimpeachable truth. _Get out!_ ”

_"After the divorce, the next couple of decades were relatively quiet. Even the organizations I’d helped in the past didn't seem to need me as much. I was able to focus on my writing and raising Anthony for the rest of his childhood. And then UNIT started up."_

 

1971

“Tallulah!” A grand and loud reunion in the middle of a bar in Queens. They hug for the first time in years.

“Amy, oh! How’ve you been?” A shrug in response; she moves on. “How's that kid of yours?”

Amy gasps. “He just got engaged! Count me relieved. I was worried he’d wind up alone like his mum. How about yours?”

“She just had her third girl!”

“Ah, _slàinte_!” Knocks back a drink.

“Wow, already drinking?” Tallulah checks her watch. Nothing changes.

“You know I never cared about the time of day. C’mon.” They sit down together.

“So...still dating two guys at once?”

It takes a moment, but Amy bursts out laughing. It’s an old joke between them. “Not that again, Lulu! I’m telling you, it wasn’t me.”

“It was more than a decade ago, but I swear on the holy baby himself, it was you! Walking through the Bronx with two, what’s that one phrase...ah. Dy-no-mite—those boys were dy-no-mite.”

“Should’ve never taught you that phrase.” Amy shakes her head. “You’re cracked, lady.”

“Better cracked than whole; the light comes in easier.” More laughter. Amy had missed this. A new song starts on the jukebox. “Ooh, The Doors! This is my kind of bar.” Tallulah orders a drink. If you can’t beat them.

“I'm more of a Carly Simon girl myself.”

“Eh, there’s room for overlap.” She takes a sip. Gin and tonic and hesitation. “I'm guessing you have some idea of why I asked you here.”

“Of course. Whenever we had something important to discuss, we'd meet somewhere noisy. What, you thought I'd forget?” A huff. “I’m old, not senile. Plus, last we spoke you were throwing me out of a funeral so I figured it was something—” Tallulah passes her a photograph of a woman she doesn’t recognize. “—important.” Amy’s instincts are ahead of her brain. Her heart speeds up before Tallulah even says it.

“They're back.”

Amy stares at her, swallows hard. Digests her fear. “Where?”

_"UNIT never officially started up in America while I was alive, but you could say we were their early operatives. And when it came to the Weeping Angels, they needed us.”_

They crawl through an access tunnel somewhere in the heart of Manhattan, close to where the woman in Tallulah’s picture went missing. Amy’s knees are already stiff. “Aren't we getting too old for this?”

Tallulah all but cackles. “Speak for yourself, toots.”

“Wow. Haven't been called 'toots' since Truman's presidency.” According to Amy’s roughly drawn map, they’re almost to the sub-basement. “By the way, I don't think I remember you receiving field training.”

Shrug. “Well, not officially.” She moves on, as if that doesn’t raise more questions. “If their goal is garnering the most energy possible, then logically they'd converge about...right here.” She points on the map to the back of the room.

Amy feels uneasy. They’d be cornered there. “Are you sure it's right under the generator?”

“That's what the blueprints said. They'd want to knock it out to make sure everyone stayed in the dark when they move in for the kill, don't ya think?”

“Definitely. You brought the O.R.E.'s, right?

Tallulah holds them up, lips pursed. “What do I look like, a moron?”

Amy smiles uncontrollably. “You're my favorite.” They decide to put the spectacle-like devices on right then—which is lucky. The lights begin to flicker a second after they do.

They move to the sides of the tunnel. Tallulah pulls out two strange-looking guns, hands one to Amy. “Don’t need bullets. Eyes peeled. Backs to the walls.”

“Yes, ma'am.” A smirk as she looks around. It’s okay to let her eyes wander with the O.R.E. on. “Forgot how much I like you being in charge.”

“God, later—incoming! On your right, Jane!” Sure enough, a Weeping Angel stands a few yards away, caught in mid-run.

Amy fires, shocked at the white beam that comes out to turn the statue to rubble. “Bloody hell, I think I saw this thing is _Star Wars!_ ”

Tallulah blasts an Angel to smithereens. “ _Star_ what?”

“Anachronism, never mind!” Instead of another Angel to her right, Amy sees a child. “Kid, get out of here!”

He can’t be any more than six or seven. “Is this the way to the bathroom?”

“Get my back, Lulu.” Amy steps carefully towards the kid. “Look sweetie, it's really dangerous down here right now. There was a...water main break. You gotta go.”

He nods fervently. “Yeah, I _do_ have to go.”

“No, I mean—” Amy looks up just in time to stop an Angel right behind him. Teeth bared. Hands raised. Ready to strike. “On second thought, come towards me. Look at me, only me.” He takes hesitant steps, following her. “Yeah, that's better. We'll find a bathroom, but we need to stick together.” She pulls him behind her as the Angel moves closer. “Things might get scary, but we do this kind of thing all the time, me and her.” She shoots, no effect. She shoots again, causing an explosion of rock.

Tallulah shoots at another a few times. “Yeah, way before you were born though, kid.”

“Tallulah, trying to be comforting.” Through gritted teeth.

A chuckle. “Not much sense in that.”

They’re gaining numbers now. Amy turns another one to a heap. The kid’s screaming. “Seriously, where did you get these guns?!”

She feels Tallulah shrug. “I know a guy.”

Fire. Scan their surroundings. More incoming. Fire. Another scream from the kid. Fire. Only a minute later, Tallulah’s screaming. “Some of them are too strong, it's only slowing them down!”

“We'll have to take that.” That’s when the lights start strobing faster. “Damn it!”

“There's too many, Amy!”

So Amy gives the order. “Run!” She picks up the kid and they rush to the stairs. “Stairwell's clear! Where's our backup? You said we had backup!”

She almost trips on the upper steps and looks down. Bodies litter their path. Tallulah covers the kid's eyes. “I think that's them.”

If these Angels could snap necks—“They're already strong. Why are they here?” Running again past the bodies.

“They're gluttons.” Tallulah shoots another angel into sweet nonexistence. “That's a deadly sin, didn't ya know?”

“Let's go, Mother Teresa.” Pulling her by the coat sleeve.

They run until Tallulah lets out a yelp. Amy knows it’s all over before she looks—their backs were turned for too long. She turns back to see an angel has her Lulu by the shoulders. She’s already rushing back to her.

“Stop!” For once, Amy listens. Her last chance to do so. “Amy, it's okay. You have to go. Come get the glasses.”

Stoic, she aims. “No, I'm not leaving you.” 

“You shoot that gun, I die more painfully.” Hesitation. But she’s right. Amy lowers the gun. Takes slow steps to follow Tallulah’s order. “Hey, maybe I'll get to see Laszlo again.” 

“Lulu, no.” Her voice is already catching.

“I'll just go ahead and tell him you're sorry for yackin' at his funeral.” Tallulah gives a short laugh. It hits Amy as too much. The tears start against her will. Her only best friend left takes off the O.R.E. and holds it out.

Amy takes them—then takes Tallulah’s hands in hers, squeezing them. She’s shaking her head. “Put 'em on the kid and go.” Amy does so, notices the kid’s crying as well. “Amy?” She looks from the statue to meet Lulu’s eyes, who’s smiling. 

“You're my favorite, too.”

“Tallulah—”

Almost sobbing now. “Go, hurry! Kid, cover your ears.” 

Amy picks up the child and turns away to run.

And with one swift _snap_...she’s gone.

* * *

The sound of Tallulah’s final moment on Earth traveled through the decades to ring in Amy’s ears as she recounted it.

“The kid and I got out fine, but her family couldn't even have an open casket. That was the last case I did for any organization. It wasn't long after that I moved to Maine, formally retiring. The city simply held too much sorrow after Tallulah. UNIT and others eventually caught up with me, but I was done. I heard stories every now and then about the Doctor's exploits, more people going missing in New York, but I was old. It was someone else's turn, someone younger. Someone better at stopping those demons than I was.” Amy came back to the present, realized that Charlie and Cas were both holding her hands.

Mary was the first to speak. “I'm so sorry, Amy.”

“And the Doctor doesn’t know about any of this?” Jack clarified. She shook her head, triggering a collective sigh of discontent from around the room.

“I’m sorry,” Amy pleaded softly. “I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger. I just didn’t want to deal with my past. I figured...it was a different time, a different life, and I didn’t need to.”

Sam exhaled, making it clear that he was about to speak. “Then I’m even more sorry than you are.”

“What do you mean?” Amy asked, shaking her head.

He leaned forward in his seat, his elbows resting on his knees. “The Men of Letters have record of the Weeping Angels, cases they worked that involved them. I come across one every now and then, and I think—“ He stopped and gestured towards himself and the older members of the group, Rowena included. “ _We_ think the Angels are active again and…that they might be in league with Michael.” He stopped for a second as she nodded grimly, her lips forming a mirthless smile. “I'm sorry--when the Doctor asked for you, I had no idea what you’d been through.”

“Don't be sorry.” She dropped both hands that she’d grasped so firmly the moment before. Heart racing, she stood to leave but turned in the doorway. Everyone looked at her, a mix of sympathy, fear, and uncertainty aimed in her direction. “They'll keep coming back until every single bloody one is decimated off the face of this planet.” Then she left, Michael’s voice echoing in her head. _Watch out for statues._

After a few whole minutes of complete silence in the room, Rowena stood. “I should talk to her.”

“Wait,” Charlie began, standing as well. “I'm pretty sure she wants to be alone right now. She just unpacked a hell of a lot.”

“Yeah, I mean...was that really necessary, Sam?” Bobby asked, partially serious.

Taken aback, Sam all but glared at him. “What? _You're_ the one who suggested this...tribunal. And I didn't know how bad it was. But we needed to know she wasn't holding back anything that could endanger the group. She just needs some time.”

“And you know her so well?” Rowena scoffed.

“No, I—Charlie just said—”

“Everyone, please,” Cas cut in. “Sam didn't mean any harm, you all know that. And I think he's right.”

“Is that what he'd say? The Doctor?” Rowena retorted vehemently. “Would he agree that Amy should wallow in self-pity over her past? Over him? Because I can guarantee you she is now!”

“Of _course_ not, y—“ he began angrily, but Mary placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched a bit, not realizing she was behind him. He sat back and rubbed his forehead, embarrassed at his own jumpiness.

Mary rubbed his shoulder, announcing to the group, “We really need to find him.”

“We need a plan,” Charlie added. “A fool-proof one. Agreed?”

Everyone agreed except Sam, who looked offended. What the hell did they think he was working on? Yet Charlie gave him a pointed look that made him roll his eyes and sigh. “Yeah, agreed.”

* * *

Amy waited until the house was relatively silent; at least there hadn’t been talking or footsteps in about an hour. She searched through the room’s closet, chock full of clothes a teenager might wear. It occurred to her that whatever she took, she probably wouldn’t be able to bring back, and she hoped she could make it up to Mary if she got in trouble. She was kind enough to bring her dinner, even though Amy had lied and said she wasn’t hungry. Kindness like that didn’t deserve deception like this. But Amy wasn’t about to change her mind; she had to leave. Finally, she came across a small duffel that would do nicely.

Amy tried her best to be light of foot as she walked through the house, unsure if there were any squeaking floorboards to avoid. (Surely not in a mansion, she thought.) Thankfully, everyone seemed to be in their bedrooms, so she had an easy time getting to the front door. She slipped out quietly, pulling the latch almost silently—then yelped as she turned on the porch.

"Would you stop _doing_ that you...you _lurker!_ " she griped at an equally startled Cas who was innocently leaning against one of the columns.

"What? You startled _me_ ,” he retorted, catching his breath as she rubbed her forehead. “We should talk."

That didn’t sound promising. Amy looked up at him and scoffed. "Yeah, maybe later if I'm still alive," she joked grimly as she took the steps down off the porch. 

"What? Where are you going?” She could hear his footfalls behind her. _Damn it._ “What’s the bag for?"

"What do you think?" The front yard had a lovely cobblestone half-circle driveway, but Amy elected to walk through the grass towards the cars.

"Amy, no."

"Yes. I'm not letting him think for one more _day_ that he's alone. I'm going to find him."

"Amy, we have a plan,” Cas began, almost pleading. “We just have to perfect it. Sam said it'll only be two days tops."

"Time in which the Doctor could die,” Amy debated, almost running. “We don't have time for perfection, so it's better if I just try. Without him, we may not stand a chance."

"Amy, _stop_." He grabbed her by the arm, swinging her around fast enough that the bag dropped to the ground as he took hold of both arms. She struggled against him, yelling for a second or two before stomping hard on his instep. Cas doubled over with a groan as she stepped back, grabbing the duffel and starting off again. "What was that?!"

"Welcome to humanity,” she called back to him. “You're on my playing field now, love." And for a moment, Amy thought she was in the clear—until she was all but body-slammed into the ground. "Get off!"

He held her wrists into the ground, making her yelp as he pressed into the bruises there. “What if you run into Michael, huh? Amy, it’s suicide!”

“I said **get off of me!** ” she bellowed once she stopped struggling. Yelling, she ruthlessly kneed him in the groin and launched her head towards his nose. Even though she only got his uninjured cheek, both hits were enough to send him rolling off onto the grass in cries of agony. "I don't want to beat you up, Cas, but I _fucking_ will if you try to stop me! I’m not letting him die!"

"Sam! Sam!” he bellowed back towards the house, but she was already on the move again. Scrambling to his feet to her irritation, he followed her still. “And what are you going to do? Remember what Michael said about not being able to stop him and save the Doctor at the same time. Is he even in this time period anymore? How can you know?"

"Doesn't matter. Anything's better than sitting around accomplishing absolutely nothing," Amy growled.

"What, you're gonna steal one of the cars?"

"I don't know, maybe."

"Amy, what are you doing?" She whipped around to see everyone had come out of the house. Every single person. _Bit dramatic._ They all ran towards her and Cas, and that’s when the desperation kicked in. Amy pulled out her pistol and pointed, stopping everyone in their tracks and prompting Sam to step in front. "Woah, okay, take it easy—"

"It's nothing personal,” Amy yelled, catching a glimpse of Cas who seemed about to tackle again. Or maybe he was just avoiding the gun. “But I can't just sit here and wait on a plan. _He_ can't wait."

"It's almost done," Charlie called even though she was stunned.

" _No!_ Any time I was in danger or Rory was, the Doctor never thought twice. He didn't stop to make plans, he made it up as he went along, and he saved us countless times. He always came through when we needed him most. He deserves nothing less than the same from me.” Her hand shook as she looked at Sam, finding the same disappointment in herself that she felt mirrored in his expression. “Thanks for having me talk everything out, Sam. It reminded me of what's at stake, reminded me of who I was before. Like I said, nothing personal. I'm sorry." Holstering the weapon, she turned to continue walking when a familiar sound stopped her. Her heart leapt as the grinding and whirring grew louder, the wind suddenly picking up around her.

Cas recognized it as well, crestfallen. "Oh, no." The TARDIS appeared a yard or two away from Amy as she beamed. Certainly she was on the right path, no matter the cost, if _she_ was willing to show up.

Mary inched forward. "What's that?"

Amy continued to grin at the ship. Her Great White Hope, painted deep blue. "That, Mary, would be my ride.”

As soon as it completely materialized, she bounded through the open door towards the console with Cas following at her heels. "Amy, please listen to reason. This is madness."

"Love makes you do crazy things, yeah?"

"This isn't love, Amy!” he rebutted, catching up to her when she stopped to try a lever. It wouldn’t move, and after a growl of frustration she moved on. “Love doesn't send you out on suicide missions. If something happens to you, I can't bring you back again. Remember?"

She turned around and regarded him seriously. "You think I'd be able to forget? You think that's not just one more reason for me to do this?” Shaking her head, she went back to trying different levers and buttons. The only difference it made was in the noises the ship emitted. “I'd get out of here unless you want to leave."

"Not without you."

She scoffed. "Suit yourself, but I don't know where we're going.” Finally, she gave up on the console and looked to the ceiling, yelling. “Idris! I don't know where he is!"

Cas looked around in confusion. "Who's Idris? Amy—"

"Do you have any idea?” she continued at the walls. “And you know I don't know how to drive you!"

Just then, they both saw light out of the corner of their eyes; a hologram of the Doctor started up a few feet away. The artificial Time Lord looked at Amy as she walked toward him, almost as if he could really see her. "This is the activation of emergency protocol 656-412,” he began suddenly, startling her. “Amy, if you're seeing this, I'm still alive but my life signs are fading. The TARDIS found you by triangulating the coordinates of your key. I programmed this protocol into the old girl not long before you arrived in the event that I might not be around to pilot it. I really should've shown you how to, long ago.” She stopped not a foot away, able to see the troubled creases in his forehead. “But until I get to, the TARDIS will take you directly to whatever time and place I'm in within roughly fifty square miles. Check the library for supplies before setting off to save me from whatever jam I'm currently in. And Amelia...please be careful, and don't do this alone."

As the message ended, Cas realized there’d be no persuading her to hold off leaving after that. Amy stood there for a moment, staring at empty space, before wiping away offending tears and turning to him. "Told you he wanted me to save him." The TARDIS door slammed shut and Amy heard the engines start. "You can still go, but you better hurry."

He shook his head as he took hold of the console, bracing himself for take-off. "And be the reason you go alone? Not a chance."

She shrugged, doing the same. "Then we're off."

The TARDIS shuddered under their feet as it began to fade out of sight, Sam and the others running towards it. But they stopped, buffeted back by the wind it created, until it was gone.

"Now what do we do?" Charlie asked hopelessly.

Sam stood there, staring at empty space, before sighing in exasperation. "We hope they don't get themselves killed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The playlist is optional, of course, but I highly recommend giving "I Won't Tell A Soul (I Love You)" a listen. It's actually from 1938, the year Amy and Rory were sent back to. And for any fellow Amy/Eleven shippers out there, it fits their separation eerily well in my opinion.


End file.
